The Space Race
by Palladius
Summary: The USA and the USSR turned their long-standing animosity to the stars with the launch of Sputnik I in 1957. Two hundred years on, the superpowers and their alien allies find themselves embroiled in the machinations of entities beyond their comprehension. AU first contact.
1. Prologue

1957 - First man made satellite in space, Sputnik 1 (USSR - 1 0 - USA)

1961 - First Human in space, Yuri Gagarin (USSR - 2 0 - USA)

1969 - First Human to walk on the Moon, Neil Armstrong (USSR - 2 1 - USA)

1973 - First permanent base on the Moon, Tranquility (USSR - 2 2 - USA)

1973 - First spacecraft launched from another celestial body, Moon Bus 1 (USSR - 2 3 - USA)

1978 - First Human to walk on Mars, Leon Parovsky (USSR - 3 3 - USA)

1980 - First multiple use spacecraft launched, Vostok VO-11 (USSR - 4 3 - USA)

1984 - First spacecraft constructed on Mars, Stargazer 1 (USSR - 4 4 - USA)

1988 - First spacecraft constructed in an orbital facility, Cosmos (USSR - 5 4 - USA)

1995 - First armed spacecraft, Stalwart Sentinel (USSR - 5 5 - USA)

2001 - First permanent civilian population on Mars, Cydonia City (USSR - 5 6 - USA)

2004 - Joint Martian terraforming project, Project Eden (USSR - 6 7 - USA)

2016 - First Olympics to contain zero gravity sports, Moscow Olympics (USSR - 7 7 - USA)

2022 - First space elevator, Gagarin Orbital Tether (USSR - 8 7 - USA)

2030 - Alien ruins discovered beneath USSR Mars colony, Promethei Planum (USSR - 10 7 - USA, Extraterrestrial Life bonus)

2031 - Joint Element Zero laboratory founded, Geneva (USSR - 11 8 - USA)

2039 - First faster than light spacecraft, Longsword 1 (USSR - 11 9 - USA)

2048 - Marie Shepard publicises thesis on hyper-relativity, revolutionises physics with the possibility of faster than light travel without the use of element zero (USSR - 11 10 - USA)

2055 - Children in Geneva begin to exhibit telekinetic abilities, traced back to low level element zero exposure at a large hospital. USSR founds Parovsky Biotic Reaearch Institute (USSR - 12 10 - USA)

2062 - First functional hyper-relativistic drive created. The Shepard drive quickly replaces Element Zero as the prime method of FTL travel. (USSR - 12 11 - USA)

2063 - Exploration frigate Longsword 14 makes first contact with Raachok species. Raachok Union signs a trade treaty with the USA. (USSR - 12 13 - USA, Extraterrestrial Life bonus)

2071 - A joint USA - Union research team create the first functional human AI, Alan (USSR - 12 14 - USA)

2075 - Exploration spacecraft Soyuz 44 makes first contact with Atavira and Seu'Seun species. Three of the four major Atavira nations sign a trade agreement with the USSR (USSR - 14 14 - USA, Extraterrestrial Life bonus)

2077 - Seu'Seun declare war on Atavira. USSR intervenes. First space battle ends in USSR victory (USSR - 15 14 - USA)

2084 - Seu'Seun invasion fleet targets Earth. Joint USA-USSR fleet defeats Seu'Seun but takes heavy losses. (USSR - 16 15 - USA)

2085 - USA, USSR, Raachok Union and the Atavira nations of Emaris, Haeli and Maraliu sign a military alliance in case of further Seu'Seun attacks. (USSR - 17 16 - USA)

2088 - Atavira nation of Kesla signs trade agreement with the USA and the Raachok Union (USSR - 17 17 - USA)

2093 - Brief war on the Atavira homeworld of Pau between Kesla and Haeli. Both USA and USSR refuse to intervene, resulting in the war being hastily resolved. Soviet diplomats draft the Non-Intervention Treaty stating that no species has the right to intervene in a purely domestic conflict. Treaty signed by all Atavira nations, the USSR, the USA and the Union. (USSR - 18 17 - USA)

2100 - Seu'Seun surprise attack on the Raachok homeworld of Tirfan precludes a major offensive. US naval forces scramble to bolster Union fleets. (USSR - 18 18 - USA)

2101 - USSR declares war on the Seu'Seun and comes to the aid of the beleaguered US and Union fleets. (USSR - 19 18 - USA)

2103 - Atavira nations of Emaris and Haeli declare war on Seu'Seun and send fleets to reinforce the defenders of Tirfan. USSR stealth cruisers destroy a major Seu'Seun shipyard orbiting the homeworld of Seu'Ikka, hindering the Seu'Seun war effort. (USSR - 20 18 - USA)

2109 - A concerted US offensive finally pushes the Seu'Seun out of the Raachok home system. (USSR - 20 19 - USA)

2112 - The CIA secretly supplies arms and equipment to Seu'Seun rebels, enabling them to conduct a coup. Thousands of Seu'Seun are killed during a week of fierce fighting but in the end the coup is successful. (USSR - 20 20 - USA)

2115 - New Seu'Seun Parliament collapses. Seu'Ikka descends into civil war. USA deploy a fleet to quarantine Seu'Ikka until the war is resolved. (USSR - 20 21 - USA)

2119 - USA legalises interspecies marriage. (USSR - 20 22 - USA)

2126 - USSR successfully tests proton beam weapon. The weapon proves to be far more effective than the usual electromagnetic projectile cannons. (USSR - 21 22 - USA)

2130 - USSR develops phased proton shielding that provides far greater protection than element zero shielding. (USSR - 22 22 - USA)

2135 - Old enemies Kesla and Haeli once again go to war on the Atavira homeworld of Pau. Sickening atrocities on the part of both nations lead to an overruling of the non-intervention treaty after massive public outcry in USA and USSR. Since the majority of the US fleet is tied up in the Seu'Ikka Quarantine, it falls to the USSR to deploy peacekeeping forces. Both nations surrender to the USSR fleet under Admiral Kerensky. Over 1400 Atavira from both nations sentenced to lethal injection for war crimes. (USSR - 23 22 - USA)

2142 - Exploration frigate Longsword 119 discovers enormous alien structures of unknown origin in the Arcturus system. (USSR - 23 23 - USA)

2144 - US prospectors on Charon discover that the moon is actually an alien structure encased in ice. The moon is thawed out and the structure is reactivated, proving to be a rapid link between Sol and Arcturus. (USSR - 23 24 - USA)

2147 - The Seu'Seun civil war finally ends. Seu'Ikka has been devastated by weapons of mass destruction. Surviving Seu'Seun are evacuated from Seu'Ikka and form a new Seu'Seun colony on a newly discovered planet christened Seu'Neue. The Seu'Neue government forms close political and economic ties with the USA. (USSR - 23 25 - USA)

2150 - The USSR launch their first Odessa-class dreadnought, the SSV (Soviet Space Vessel) Odessa. Heavily armed and shielded with phased proton technology, the Odessa revolutionises warship design philosophy. (USSR - 24 25 - USA)

2151 - The USA launch the USS Marie Shepard, an enormous dreadnought sized vessel loaded with fighters and bombers. This is their answer to the Odessa - the Shepard class supercarrier. (USSR - 24 26 - USA)

2153 - The USSR pass a resolution allowing non-Humans to apply for service in the military. (USSR - 25 26 - USA)

2154 - The USSR officially recognise the Seu'Neue colonial government as the sovereign state of the Seu'Seun, prompting several holdout outposts and colonies to unify with the Seu'Neue government. (USSR - 26 26 - USA)

2157 - A USSR scout flotilla heads to Relay 314 to protect a Union scientific expedition from raiders.

The Space Race in 2157 -

Since the start of the Space Race in 1957, the desire to reach for the stars has become the driving force behind mankind's development. Gone is the cold war, the state of barely contained devastation awaiting the planet, replaced by a friendly rivalry between the two superpowers as they each push harder and faster to have their people further out among the stars. Although both superpowers have constructed enormous engines of war they have never come to orbital conflict, instead using them to safeguard the entire human race, not just their half of the planet.

The Raachok are a race of enormous levo-amino reptile-mammal crosses, highly intelligent, powerfully built and very long lived, making them some of the best scientists and researchers in the galaxy. However their fertility levels are dropping as a result of multiple edits to their genome, with their birth rate slowly decreasing. For this reason large amoubts of the Union's capital are shunted into fertility research.

The Atavira are a race of dextro-amino mammalian humanoids, 99% of whom are female. They have three-digited hands and feet, long tails and human-like torsos and heads although their colorations are far more diverse than humans, especially their hair, which can naturally have three or even four tones. They have three sub-species, all of which are capable of interbreeding - Shar, Elloi and Auwl. Shar tend to be larger and more aggressive, Elloi are smaller and naturally submissive and Auwl, the rarest, are recognisable by the bony plating on their forearms and lower legs.

The Seu'Seun are a highly aggressive, militaristic race of insectoid warriors heavily augmented with cybernetic implants. They are twelve foot tall, bipedal, with powerful arms, four compound eyes, a long tail and powerful jaws as well as a double pair of wings. Their bodies are covered in a thick segmented layer of chitinous armour usually painted with their house's markings. They evolved on the high gravity greenhouse world Seu'Ikka, which has an atmospheric oxygen content of 38%, and so they need to wear breather masks when on other planets to avoid hypoxia.

###

2157 - The Beginning

Boe idly scratched at her neck, seemingly unconcerned by the mass relay looming in the distance as she kept her eyes fixed on her console and tried to ignore the leers of the rest of the bridge crew. Apparently among Human males it was considered a badge of honour to sleep with an Atavira female for some reason, and generally accepted consensus was that even among other Atavira females, Boe was hot. The funny thing was, by Atavira standards she wasn't all that attractive, but apparently for some bizarre reason Human males preferred large breasts.

She kept her focus on her console as the small squadron of Soviet ships, headed by the Vladivostok-class medium cruiser SSV Tamerov, babysat the scientists going googoo over the dormant relay. The Tamerov was a kilometre long, a flat, thin kite shape with the lateral corners stretched into wings, a slight bulge in the centre for the crew section with a long, tapering fin extending downwards with the three hyper-relativistic motors integrated, a small conning tower extending upwards to link to the fighter bay. Her lines were clean and elegant, smooth silver plating interrupted only by the hammer and sickle symbol displayed proudly on her bow next to her name. She was a good ship.

The four Kiev-class frigates accompanying them were built around similar lines, albeit with no fighter bay and one less hyper-relativistic motor. They weren't large enough for more than a single proton beam for their main gun, their eight turrets instead filled with element zero mass drivers. The oldest, the Serevsky, had the ancient electromagnetic railguns, little more than peashooters against anything with halfway decent kinetic barriers or proton shields. They didn't have any destroyers with them, but then again it's not like they would need the pursuit capability. Their job was just to scare off raiders or the odd Seu'Seun die-hard. Even the most insane of the bugs would think twice before going up against the Tamerov's squadron.

"Captain?"

Captain Arminov turned to the sensor operator.

"Unidentified contacts closing. Looks like two medium cruisers, twelve frigates and a whole bunch of what look like patrol boats."

"Patrol boats? Those things aren't even big enough for a decent gun!"

"I know sir."

"Hmm. Okay then. Comms, try to hail them. Tactical, sound action stations."

Boe jabbed a couple of buttons on her control panel and red lights flashed throughout the ship, crewmen scrambling to their control uplinks.

"All weapon crews report ready, sir. Shielding at full power. Standing by to launch fighters."

"Mel?"

The holographic avatar of the Tamerov's AI appeared on the bridge.

"Yes Captain?"

"What do you make of their AI?"

The avatar quirked an eyebrow as lines of code appeared in the air, streaming around Mel briefly before vanishing.

"They use a completely alien code language, so I can't quite be sure, but their AI's coding seems very simplistic. I can only conclude their code is far more compressible than ours."

"I see. What about the ships themselves?"

A hologram of a ship appeared between the avatar's hands briefly before winking out.

"Their tech seems about a hundred years behind ours. Element zero based weaponry, shielding and faster than light travel. It seems they rely on the substance far more than us. Even their life support is based on it."

"Could these be Protheans?"

"I do not believe so. The Prothean technology recovered from Promethei Planum shares no discernible design similarities with these ships."

The captain nodded and glanced at Boe.

"Miss Aylu, if it comes to blows, what is your assessment?"

Mel helpfully pinged the data on the unidentified ships to Boe's screen.

"I'd say one on one, our frigates and theirs are about evenly matched. The Tamerov is far superior to their cruisers, but with our frigates gone we'd be vulnerable. They could overwhelm us with sheer weight of numbers and fire."

"So what would be the result?"

"The squadron would be destroyed, but we'd take most of them with us."

The captain frowned into his beard, then turned to the comm officer.

"Any luck?"

"No sir. I've established a connection several times but they keep cutting it on their end. I'd say they're not interested in talking."

"Damn it. Alright everyone, looks like we've got a fight on our hands. Detach the Serevsky from formation, tell them to hang back with the scientists and charge their HR motors. If shots are fired, tell them to get the hell back to Shanxi and warn the colony, then get a message to the Kremlin."

"Copy that, Captain."

###

"Captain, one of the unknown cruisers is detaching from formation. It looks like they're falling back to stay with the ships at the relay."

Captain Arsenius Noridon leaned back in the command chair of the Pride of Macedyn, nodding to himself. The patrol cruiser commanded by Captain Flavus Kryik had been observing these aliens for two days now as they performed experiments on the Relay - a capital crime under Council law. They had a dreadnought and four cruisers, but surprisingly no frigates, a weakness he intended to exploit. With two dreadnoughts and twelve cruisers, as well as three frigate squadrons, he was confident in the battlegroup's ability to overwhelm the aliens.

"Gunnery Chief Vakarian?"

"Yes sir?"

"Weapons status."

"All cannon at full readiness, Captain. Waiting for the word."

He nodded in satisfaction. Vakarian was a good kid. A good Turian. Took orders with no questions or hesitation, yet showed initiative in the absence of orders. Kid might have his own ship one day. He opened the fleet wide communication channel.

"Primacy squadron, commence initial barrage."

The entire ship shook as Vakarian's precious main gun started hurling its pointed metal missiles at the arrogant aliens. Teach them to mess with the Council.

"Captain! Reading an energy spike on the hostile's dreadnought!"

His mandibles gaped open in dumb disbelief as a brilliant mauve beam speared out from the point of the hostile dreadnought, slamming into one of his cruisers. The Talons of the Valluvians. A good ship, with a good crew. The kinetic barriers flared, then failed under the sustained beam, the purple streak of fire ripping through the ship, cleaving it clean in two lengthways, the two pieces spinning off in opposite directions, propelled by the drive core detonating.

"What in the Spirits was that!"

He frantically hit his comm.

"All ships, commence evasive manoeuvring! Frigate packs, swarm the dreadnought!"

His cruisers started jinking round in their course, messing up the targeting equipment as the frigates leaped forward.

"Helm, why aren't we evading?"

The helmsman turned round and snapped at him.

"You ever try evasive manoeuvres in a dreadnought, sir?"

Moments later he shook his head.

"I apologise."

Arsenius chuckled and scratched his mandible.

"Apology accepted. Just do your best. I for one am not keen to be on the wrong end of that beam."

"Yes sir."

"Sir! The enemy ships are firing on the frigates!"

The captain watched in mute horror as smaller versions of the purple beams lanced out from the dreadnought, the barrage joined by the cruisers spitting torrents of golden metal shards as they ripped into the frigate packs. It took less than a minute for the three squadrons to be reduced to a few battered survivors falling back to hide with the rest of the fleet.

"Sir, the dreadnought is firing again!"

The purple beam scraped across the Pride's top layer, the power mitigated by the kinetic barriers but not entirely stopped. The entire ship shuddered and the alarms started blaring.

"Status report!"

The damage control officer scrambled for a report.

"Minor hull breaches across the topmost deck. Atmosphere venting is now under control. They barely nicked our fringe, sir."

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Captain! Cruisers now firing beam weapons!"

All three of the beams converged on another one of his cruisers. The first one took the kinetic barriers down to fifty per cent. The second one knocked them out entirely. The third drilled a hole through the drive core, ripping the ship apart in a mass effect detonation that shattered and buckled the hull.

"We've lost two cruisers and eighty per cent of our frigates already! Vakarian, why are we not hitting anything!"

The gunnery chief is prompt to reply.

"We're too far away sir. The enemy ships are evading our shells. We need to close the range if we want to do any damage."

"Very well. Primacy squadron, all ahead. Close the range."

###

"Serevsky is away sir. The civilian ships are attempting to make their escape but they're using older models of HR motors. It'll take them a while to spin up."

"Alright. Looks like they want to close the range. Launch the Sickles."

Boe tapped the authentication into her console, opening the hangar bay and activating the element zero catapults that would fling the fighter-bombers into the battle. The squadron of twelve was hurled out of the hangar, main drives flaring up and accelerating them to some absurd velocity as they streaked across the gap between the two fleets. The enemy cruisers and frigates attempted to engage them using some form of directed light weaponry but the AI was clearly very sluggish, the vast majority of the shots missing. In return the fighters fired up their 'pee-beeps', the fighter jock nickname for their PBPs, or proton beam projectors. The brilliant purple beams were immediately followed by a swarm of anti-ship missiles, detonating against the kinetic barriers as the squadron, now ten strong thanks to the alien defensive fire, skittered away. Nuclear fire blossomed in the middle of the fleet, greatly weakening the barriers of the alien ships and scoring minor damage on several of the frigates.

"All ships, target the leftmost cruiser with main proton beams. Fire."

Barriers sapped by the nuclear detonations, the cruiser never stood a chance. The three frigates fired their proton beams first, obliterating what remained of the barriers, then the Tamerov's main cannon dealt the killer blow, shearing one of the wings off and making the heavily damaged ship veer off course, crippled. Secondary explosions lit up the cruiser's suddenly exposed flank as it fell out of formation, one of the hostile frigates having to swerve around it to avoid a collision.

"Lovely. Retarget ..."

That was as far as he got. In a sudden bout of fury a torrent of mass driver shells poured out of the hostile ships, focused on the Patrov. The ageing frigate never stood a chance. Four hits from the hostile frigates drained her proton shields, then a single shot from the cruiser smashed through her midsection, the power surge making the HR motors explode into a welter of exotic particles. No escape pods.

"Dammit! Get us in close range!"

The Tamerov's main drive lit off, another proton beam shot slashing through another frigate as her secondary proton turrets awoke, long triple barrels glaring with pent up energy and anger. The Makarev's shielding finally gave up the ghost, a triple impact from the frigates crushing her prow, then obliterating her bridge, then scoring a direct hit on the HR motors, once again vaporising the ship in a vortex of short lived exotic particles.

"Captain, we're taking fire! Shields holding steady."

The incoming kinetic projectiles were flashing into clouds of glowing purple gas around a hundred metres from the hull of the Tamerov, the cruiser ploughing through the gas clouds as it continued to charge the hostile fleet.

"Shields at eighty per cent!"

The Solanyov shuddered and bucked as a shell from the cruiser tore through its weakened proton shielding, hitting centre mass. Moments later the ship fell apart under its own G-forces, the HR motors and proton weapons self-destructing to stop the alien's getting their hands on the technology.

"Goddamnit! What are the fighters doing?"

His question was answered moments later by the flash of nuclear detonations as the squadron blindsided the aliens, two more frigates losing barriers, then being torn open by the proton beams. A thick web of defensive fire flicked out, obliterating the fighters as they tried to pull away.

The secondary proton beam turrets opened up, triple bursts of mauve lancing out at the hostile ships, another frigate gone before they even realised the Tamerov was firing. The proton beams came fast and furious, lashing out at the barriers, now focusing on the cruiser.

"Captain! Hostile frigate on collision course!"

The frigate struck the proton shield, half the vessel vaporised into a cloud of gas even as the proton shielding finally failed. The rear end of the frigate slammed into the HR motors, detonating them. The proton shields valiantly swirled around the main body, protecting it from the triple blast, then died for good.

"Everyone to the escape pods!"

Boe sprinted through the Tamerov, sliding herself into an escape shuttle and punching away from the wreck just as the cruiser smashed the Tamerov into shards of armour. These aliens just attacked the USSR. More than that, they attacked all of us.

And they will pay.


	2. Defiance (1)

PART 1: Defiance

A/N: So I woke up yesterday morning to find that in less than ten hours I had no less than seventy fav/follow/review alerts in my inbox, by far the biggest response I have ever had to a story on the site. Since you guys are so great, could I pretty please ask you to check out some of my other stories, in particular Sins of the Reapers? Also to note, Seu'Seun is actually pronounced like Sho Shown, and their new home planet Seu'Neue is pronounced Sho Noway.

###

General Simon Williams read the communiqué for what had to be the twentieth time.

Unknown hostiles attacking scientific detachment. Tamerov and escorts engaging. Likely hostiles will target Shanxi. Mobilise all ground forces. - Capt. Leon Voraznev, SSV Serevsky

"Status report."

"All ground forces standing by st maximum readiness, sir. The Serevsky just departed the system to bring word to the Kremlin. There will be a full battlegroup here in a week, maximum."

"So we have to hold out for a week. I want all our stealth fighters ready by the time the enemy gets here. I should imagine they could do quite a bit of damage to any landing force."

"What if they bombard us from orbit?"

"Then we go to our God with honour."

###

"Spirits. I ... I can't quite believe it. One dreadnought and three cruisers, and they took out one of our dreadnoughts, seven cruisers and nearly thirty frigates! We only managed to win by one of our cruisers ramming the damned thing!"

Cadmus Vakarian nodded slowly, sipping his cup of scalding hot apha, the Turian equivalent of coffee, as the gunner's mate rambled on.

"Well, rumour has it the captain is picking up escape pods from the hostile dreadnought. We might finally get some answers."

###

"Ensign Boe Aylu, 2388-7165-4992."

The two aliens exchanged a confused glance. Then one of them said something in its own language again, the words coming out in a kind of garbled roar.

"Ensign Boe Aylu, 2388-7165-4992."

The alien bent down and looked her in the eye. Then it pointed to itself.

"Mikos."

She frowned, then decided to play along. She pointed at the alien, then spoke.

"Mikos."

She pointed at herself.

"Boe."

The alien pointed at her.

"Boe."

She nodded. The alien waved its hands, indicating it and its companion.

"Turian."

So the species were Turian. Or maybe that was the surname. And the one with red markings was called Mikos. She pointed at both aliens.

"Turian."

Then at herself.

"Shar Atavira."

The alien bared his teeth and flared those weird things on the side of his face, which she assumed was their equivalent of a smile. Progress. She leaned back in her seat.

"Mel, you there?"

The AI avatar popped up in her field of vision, directly projected onto her retina.

"Can you run a translator ... Where are you, anyway?"

"This ship's computer. You know their AI isn't even sentient?"

"You're shitting me."

"Nope."

"So translator?"

"I'm uploading the program to your neural net now."

The Turian conversation suddenly snapped into focus.

"... clearly isn't a member of the same species as the rest of the crew, yet wears the same uniform."

"Could be a member of a client race. Medical confirms it's dextro."

"Any idea the gender?"

"Ah, it's got those chest lumps like the Asari, the Batarians, the Drell and the suit rats. I guess that means female."

"Okay. So. Her name is Boe, she's a member of a species called Shar Atavira, she isn't the same species as the rest of the crew yet served on the ship. That's all we know for now."

"You want to keep playing First Contact?"

"Nah, let someone else deal with the squishies. I need some apha."

"Second that."

The two Turians left the room and Boe subvocalised a question to Mel.

-Where is this ship headed?-

-Right for Shanxi. It seems they believe the Tamerov squadron comprised the bulk of our naval force.-

-Oh, they're in for a nasty surprise.-

###

The Turian troopship 'Chariot of Armiger' was one of six such troopships in the battlegroup. Five dreadnoughts, thirty cruisers and near one hundred frigates were accompanying the troopships. It was an invasion fleet, no doubt about that. An upstart species had challenged the Turian Hierarchy, and now they were going to pay for their impertinence. The Turians did not do things by halves. They understood only one kind of war, the kind where at the end of it only one party remained. And that party would be the Hierarchy.

Councillor Ikksi frowned at the data presented to her by the STG lieutenant.

"They mobilised two entire legions?"

"Yes, Councillor. Best we can tell, they're en route to Relay 314."

"314? There's nothing out there."

"Nothing out there that we know of, Councillor. The Veshok-12 is standing by to covertly observe the Turian movements with your permission, Councillor."

"Very well. I think I need to have a chat with Councillor Luceius."

###

General Williams frowned at the telemetry data.

"And you're certain this is accurate?"

Ash, his AI, nodded her assent.

"Yes, General. I've analysed the ship designs. They match the hostiles encountered by the Serevsky."

"So what do you make of the fleet?"

The AI considered the question, holograms of alien ships flashing around her as she analysed them, then a hologram of the fleet's disposition popped up in front of her.

"The six cruisers are of two classes I can detect. Four of them are just slightly above a Kiev-class line cruiser like the Tamerov, the other two I presume are a different class. Larger, with a stronger emission signature. In terms of tonnage they're about equal to a Moscow-class grand cruiser. Their frigates are of various classes, I count thirty five, most of them somewhere around the mass of a Vladivostok class line frigate, a few smaller, something like a Warsaw class destroyer. And then about one hundred of those little patrol boats."

"What about those six blocky ones at the back of the formation?"

She pulled up the hologram. The ship shared some design similarities to the other alien ships but was far less elegant, seeming squat and ugly next to the sleek cruisers and frigates.

"Mass wise, somewhere between the frigates and the cruisers. Best guess, it's a transport of some support."

"Carrying supplies for the fleet?"

"Or an invasion force."

A sensor tech burst into the command bunker, panting.

"General Williams! General Williams! The hostiles have set course right for us!"

The General rested his hands on the table and let out a long breath.

"How soon before they're on top of us?"

"They'll hit orbit in fourteen hours."

"Thank you, Simmons."

He sat down behind his desk as Simmons scurried off.

"What's General Corsev up to?"

Ash brought up a map of the planet, then panned around to the Soviet colony on the other continent.

"Looks like he's got all his forces prepared for an extended siege and his stealth fighters warmed up."

Williams nodded in approval of the defence set up by his Russian counterpart and old drinking buddy.

"The Raachok colony have evacuated their civilians underground and their warriors have linked up to General Corsev's forces. As for the Atavira ... God help any aliens who set foot in one of their biodomes."

"Certainly got that right."

###

Admiral Kerensky was not a happy carbon based life form.

"Bloody wonderful. It's the Seu'Seun all over again."

He looked over the reports, one from the Serevsky detailing the hostile's weapons, defences and combat doctrine, then one from a fast courier ship from the Haeli biodome on Shanxi, forwarded to him from the Atavira consulate, giving the disposition of the alien invasion fleet.

"I want these reports forwarded to Washington and Tencton as soon as possible."

The USA and the Union both had substantial interests on Shanxi. They needed to know.

"In the meantime assemble Rear Admiral Fang's battlegroup. I believe she'll be able to roll over these invaders."

Rear Admiral Ai Zho Fang was a savagely brilliant tactician, capable of using her fleet's firepower in ever more creative ways to overcome superior enemies. In this case her battlegroup would easily overwhelm these invaders. The fact that her name translated as 'precious fragrant child' made her no less terrifying. He checked the disposition of the battlegroup. The flagship was a Beijing-class battlecruiser, 1700 metres of pure destruction, accompanied by two Moscow class grand cruisers, six Kiev-class line cruisers, forty eight Vladivostok-class line frigates, twenty Warsaw-class destroyers and a single enormous Tokyo-class auxiliary, a mobile repair and resupply yard capable of supporting fleets deep in enemy controlled territory. Yes, Fang's battlegroup would get the job done. If the hostiles tried to bring in reinforcements he could have two additional battlegroups in reserve. Should do nicely. In theory.

Kerensky leaned back and scratched his chin thoughtfully. The USA were sure to send forces as well, but he wasn't too sure about the Union and the Atavira nations. In his opinion they had become complacent hiding behind Human fleets. As for the Seu'Seun - those damn bugs could take a hike down a black hole for all he cared.

###

Rear Admiral Steven Hackett listened to his orders with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Excited that this would be his first operation as the commander of a battlegroup, trepidation in that for the second time in human history, first contact with an alien species resulted in all out war. He had always put his money on the next first contact scenario being the Kepp, a race of intelligent aquatic mammals that had been under observation for a while now. But no, it was an unknown hostile race, with unknown capabilities, unknown motivations and unknown thought processes.

Rear Admiral Steven Hackett hated unknowns.

He glanced out of the window of his apartment on the Washington orbital docks, admiring his ships as they lazily orbited the docks. His flagship was the Lincoln-class line carrier USS Yorktown, the main body of the ship slung between the two enormous launch bay sections, each one comprising nearly forty per cent of the ship's volume, solid flat cuboid that contained the hangars, the sublight engines, the proton shield generators and the hypervelocity cannons, the wings extending on past the launch bays to split into two verticals at the end, each one holding one of the four HR motors. She reminded Hackett of the ancient racing catamaran his father owned. Flanking her were two Roosevelt-class assault carriers, each one massing 40% less than the Yorktown and much narrower too, each one only consisting of a single launch bay with the bridge module offset to the side, making the carriers seem lopsided as one wing extended further than the other to accommodate the bridge and the HR engines. The Roosevelt class pushed the minimum safe distance between the inhabited portions of the ship and the HR motors to the limit, making Hackett distinctly glad his flagship was a Lincoln. Along with these three capital ships were eight Reagan-class escort carriers, the kilometre long single launch bays dwarfed by their larger cousins. At least they were symmetrical, the bridge on a short conning tower extending upwards from the rear section of the launch bay. As well as these ships, Hackett's battlegroup contained two Truman-class monitors, the cousins of the Reagan class but with their hangar bay doors replaced by a solid wall of heavy duty torpedo tubes. A handful of Nixon-class light carriers and Obama-class defence frigates made up the remainder of his battlegroup. He was very much looking forward to finding out exactly how his fighter squadrons measured up to the legendary Rear Admiral Fang's fleet. And of course, he was looking forward to putting down the aliens who dared attack Shanxi.

###

The aliens were barely an hour away when an AI avatar flickered to life in General Williams's command bunker. Ash popped up beside him and smiled broadly at the other AI.

"Mel! Where have you been? I thought you were a goner for sure."

Mel shrugged. Now that General Williams took a good look at her, the red hair and pale skin definitely marked her out as a Soviet AI when compared to Ash's Hispanic looks.

"The Tamerov was taken out but I managed to upload myself to the computer systems of one of their cruisers. Their firewalls are too good for me to get up to much but I have managed to access their communication channels and security cameras. It's not much, but I'll be able to relay every order given by their captain straight to you and the other planetside forces commanders."

"So who are they?"

She rubbed her neck, one of the most basic human behaviour emulation subroutines used by the Soviet AIs.

"A race of aliens called the Turians. Aggressive, militaristic, highly disciplined, they're basically an organised version of the Seu'Seun."

"Anything else?"

"Mm, yes. They seem to be labouring under the impression that this is our homeworld and the Tamerov's squadron was the bulk of our fleet. It may be wise to remove this assumption. I have uploaded a translation matrix to your neural uplink. Feel free to try and put the wind up them."

"An excellent idea. I'll record a message, then Ash, ram it through every single one of those ships."

###

"This is General Simon Williams of the United States Army addressing the commander of the Turian squadron approaching Shanxi. If you wish to negotiate, send no more than three representatives to the following co-ordinates and I give you my word they will be unharmed. Any other Turian who sets foot on Shanxi will be executed. Williams out."

"Greetings to the Turian people from the United Soviet Socialist Republics. I am General Mikhail Corsev, commander of the Red Army detachment on Shanxi. Should you wish to discuss peace, please send representatives as per General Williams's message. If you come for war, make peace with your gods. You shall be seeing them soon enough."

"Turians. I represent the Raachok Union. Any hostile action against us or our allies will be met with maximum resistance. You have been warned."

"I am Mae Farlu, representative of the nation of Emaris. I respectfully discourage any action against our world. You will be destroyed."

"The nation of Maraliu sends a warning. Your transgression will not go unpunished. Leave while you still can and perhaps your lives will be preserved."

Captain Noridon watched the five messages over and over again, taking in the alien images somehow speaking perfect Turian.

"It seems we underestimated our foes. I'm beginning to think they may be more widely dispersed than we initially assumed."

Apparently no less than five groups from three species had settled this world. He was greatly interested to see how the Admiral would react to this.

Ah yes, the Admiral. Admiral Kaius Vargus. Noridon had never known a man so supremely confident in his own ability as Vargus. His confidence was grounded in reality - he had a flawless track record and several commendations for actions against Batarian slavers - but in the Admiral's mind his ability was overexaggerated to the point of seeming fictitious. And Noridon had the horrible feeling that the man's arrogance was about to blow up in their faces. He opened a comm channel to the Defender of Palaven, the Admiral's flagship. One of the newer Cassatian class of dreadnought, the Defender was the equal of an Asari dreadnought thanks to her enormous main gun and powerful kinetic barriers.

"Admiral Vargas. Have you seen the messages from the alien representatives?"

The elderly Turian on the comm screen fluttered his mandibles in amusement.

"I have better things to do than listen to empty threats and pleas of mercy."

"I would recommend watching the messages, sir. They do give us an idea of what we're facing."

"Bah. Your recommendation is noted. Defender out."

He shook his head, muttering to himself. Crazy bastard was far too confident for his own good.

###

"All flocks prepare for immediate launch."

Trajeet-Hcacn felt his back spines stiffen and stand upright as the announcement broke the oppressive silence in the Fourth Flock ready room. He reached out and drummed on the heads of his fellow aviators as they rose.

"Show some life, you tired old men. Time to test out the new missile systems."

The three other pilots growled good-naturedly at him as they activated their nanite flight suits and jogged through the corridor and out into the enormous underground flight pan where their stealth gunships were warmed up and ready to go. He let the other three run past him, letting him drum on the tops of their flat, triangular heads. In traditional Raachok culture, head drumming was a mark of respect from a superior to his subordinate. Of course it didn't really apply in this situation, the pilots all being equals, but was used more as a friendly tease. Out in the colonies the Union's rigid social structure was far looser than on Tirfan, the Raachok homeworld. In this case, Trajeet was just head-drumming because he was the tallest and nobody could head-drum him back.

"Shift, fliers. We've got some missiles to launch."

The four fliers clambered into the cockpits, the opaque canopies sealing over their heads, momentarily plunging them into darkness before the HUD sprang to life. Trajeet performed a quick pre-flight check and then fired up his thrusters, the Nemesis gunship rising smoothly up and out of the disguised hangar to strike out and lie in wait where the Turian landers would be entering the atmosphere. The Union's stealth gunships, and their cousins the USA and USSR's stealth fighters and ground attack craft, we're designed to be completely undetectable, thus preventing hostile warships from simply blowing them out of the sky from orbit and enabling them to operate with relative impunity even under an enemy-controlled orbit. The Turians wouldn't even know what hit them.

###

"Sir, the Turian vessels have achieved orbit. It looks like they're going to commence an invasion. No response to our messages."

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way. Scramble stealth fighters, instruct them to take down any landing craft or shuttles that break atmosphere and keep doing so until they run out of ammunition. Also, as soon as they start dropping troops have the surface to orbit missile silos fire everything they've got at the troopships."

"Understood."

Ash's avatar winked out, replaced by a hologram of the planet showing the Turian fleet in orbit. General Williams leaned forward on his desk.

"Dark clouds are smouldering into red

While down the craters morning burns.

The dying soldier shifts his head

To watch the glory that returns;

He lifts his fingers toward the skies

Where holy brightness breaks in flame;

Radiance reflected in his eyes,

And on his lips a whispered name.

And so it begins."


	3. Defiance (2)

A/N: Just broke 100 followers. Keep them coming, people. Also just to pre-empt the inevitable questions, proton weaponry, proton shields and hyper-relativity motors are unusable in atmosphere, so all ground teams and atmospheric vehicles use eezo tech.

###

The drop bay of the 'Chariot of Armiger' was in a state of controlled chaos. Soldiers ran back and forth carrying weapons and supplies, orders were hollered across the wide hangar and the landing shuttles and air support gunships were swarmed with technicians like a kicked insect hive. The technicians on the Chariot had a motto: If your lander blows up, it won't have been due to equipment failure. Granted, the motto was not catchy, neither was it reassuring, but it was accurate.

Desolas Arterius watched the activity with a small twitch of pride in his mandibles. These were his men, drilled until they were forged into one of the most successful legions in the Hierarchy. He glanced behind him to his brother, Saren. Saren was on the fast track to the Blackwatch, or even the Spectres. His squad were always the ones charging into impossible odds and walking out with their heads held high.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Of course. Are you?"

Desolas pondered the question.

"Of course. Shall we?"

Saren led the way down to the hangar bay, Desolas following. As they passed through the hangar he took a moment to admire the sleek efficiency with which his men loaded up the landers, preparing for deployment.

"General?"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"We're ready to deploy. Your command lander is this way, in the second wave of deployment."

"Thank you, Sergeant ..."

"Carissa Vakarian, sir. Combat medic, seventh cohort, first century, fourth maniple."

He nodded at the female.

"Thank you, Sergeant Vakarian. As you were."

Saren greedily watched the female scamper off to her lander.

"She's bonded. Eyes front, soldier."

Chuckling, Desolas hopped up into his own lander, Saren's squad accompanying him.

###

Ayi Muale slithered into her skintight nanoweave armour, feeling the smooth black fibres contracting and shifting to conform perfectly to the contours of her body, then checked her hair, put in a single braid coiled into a bun at the base of her skull. In Atavira society great emphasis was put on how an individual was permitted to style their hair - in her case, the coiled braid of a warrior. She then pulled up the nanoweave's hood, tugging the shroud over her face. The sensors in the material detected she had pulled over the hood and shifted the material accordingly, wrapping suffocatingly tight around her head. She then took the lightweight carbon fibre plates and held them up to her armour, the nanoweave gripping onto them and shifting them into place. Her armour plates were pure white against the black nanoweave, encasing her fragile form in solid bulletproof protection. She was a commando of the nation of Emaris, the white armour representing her purity of soul. Ayi personally thought the symbolism was unnecessary and pretentious, but the armour looked good on her, so who was she to complain? Finally she put on the helmet, the nanoweave releasing its hold on her face to cling to the carbon fibre encasing her head.

She reached over and grabbed her weapons, a Hahne-Kedar Radiance hybrid battle rifle with underslung grenade launcher, an American designed Mateba Majestic heavy revolver and a Kurzon nanoblade axe. Slotting them into position on her armour, she checked over her internal systems one more time before heading out of the biodome and assembling with her unit. They briefly knelt as the priestess in charge of their unit came out, her armour decorated with the Circle of Eternity emblazoned in black on the chest and shoulders and a gold Circle talisman in one of the pouches at her belt, which she briefly touched to the foreheads of all the commandoes, mumbling a prayer for the coming battle before slipping the talisman back in her pocket.

"Okay, let's go."

The commandoes scrambled into their stealth transport, Ayi snatching a last look at the biodome she called home before the sensor shroud closed over the vehicle.

###

The six Hierarchy troopships hanging over Shanxi opened their enormous ventral hangar bay doors, landers large enough to accomodate two full maniples of twenty falling out and lighting off their thrusters, easing themselves into the atmosphere and angling downwards toward the planet. They fell like steel rain, bolts of judgement from a vengeful deity.

In true Human fashion, the defenders of Shanxi responded to the fury of a god with two upraised fingers.

The invasion force in all its might descended unmolested for all of eighty seconds. Then the formation started to fall apart, the left flank of the lander fleet warping and twisting out of alignment. Admiral Vargas reached for his comm console to lay into the pilots and get them back on track, then he saw the plumes of smoke and fire. Almost thirty landers were falling out of the sky, engines torn apart by streams of slugs from invisible assailants. Even as he watched, the other flank were suddenly hit by a volley of missiles arcing up out of nowhere, another sixteen transports smashed and plummeting.

The Admiral was proud and arrogant but he was not stupid. He knew when the enemy had the advantage, just as he knew needlessly sacrificing lives was folly.

"Recall the landers, then give me full scans. I want to know what's hitting our troops."

The landers arced back upwards, making a break for the safety of the troopships.

"Admiral! Incoming!"

He looked at his screen in dumb surprise. Six installations on the surface had just launched swarms of surface to orbit missiles, blunt armour piercing warheads striking upward as they surged toward the Turian ships in orbit. Admiral Vargas cursed the spirit of ill fortune. With his ships committed to recovering his landers the troopships and their escorts were sitting ducks for the missiles, and he couldn't properly use a GARDIAN screen to shoot down the missiles without risking hitting his landers.

Thinking quickly, he snapped out some orders to his fleet.

"Frigates, intercept those missiles. Reinforce kinetic barriers and brace for impact."

His frigates descended into the atmosphere, GARDIAN lasers flicking out to intercept the missiles. The projectiles continued on regardless. The Admiral cursed the species sitting on the planet below. Who the hell puts armour on their missiles? Finally GARDIAN fire punched through the engine block of one of the missiles, the weapon losing power and beginning to fall out of the sky. Three more, then another four, then five more, but out of the eighteen initially launched five made it to their targets. Two troopships erupted with blossoms of nuclear fire, the three stage hybrid fission/fusion warheads riding their armour piercing tips deep into the bellies of the ships then detonating and tearing their targets apart. Seconds later another missile detonated against his flagship's kinetic barriers, knocking them down to forty per cent in a single hit, then the Shield of the Hierarchy was bracketed by the last two, her kinetic barriers gone and major structural damage throughout her fuselage. He could see her wing buckle under the explosion but miraculously she survived.

"I want those launch sites destroyed."

26,000 men. Two thirds of a legion, gone. As the Defender of Palaven aligned her main gun towards the surface of the planet, the coming obliteration of the missile silos was little comfort.

###

Adam Shepard slung a bandolier of heavy shells around his chest, feeling them rattle briefly against his grey and blue armour before locking into place. He was a lieutenant in the US Grenadiers, the elite unit dedicated to fighting in the toughest, heaviest firestorms and emerging victorious. His armour had some of the strongest personal kinetic barriers available and thick slabs of plating and the weapon he was carrying on his back was a Mateba Mjolnir mass accelerator cannon, each shot possessing destructive power equal to the main gun of a light tank. Backed up by two Mateba Majestic heavy revolvers, he was ready to take on anyone who threatened his colony.

He glanced up as a stealth-shrouded APC pulled up outside his barracks, disgorging a squad of white armoured Emaris commandoes. He eagerly scanned the group, recognising the name tag on the right shoulder in flowing Pautu script of his best friend Ayi. She raised a three-fingered hand in greeting, making him smile beneath his helmet as she walked over to him.

"Hey you."

"Hey yourself. Ready for this?"

"Nope. You?"

"Me neither."

She sighed and rested her forehead on his shoulder briefly, her Death Mask helmet clunking against his shoulder pad. Both of them were too young to have seen much action beside the odd assault on a pirate base or a Seu'Seun loyalist enclave, but they had grown up watching news vids of the bloody, savage battles between allied armies and the bug invaders on the black and green Raachok homeworld of Tirfan. They both knew too much to believe the jingoistic propaganda of the Atavira nations or the bloodless recruiting vids of the US Marines.

"This is going to get bad, isn't it."

"Yes it is."

The two of them bent their heads over a small photo of Adam's wife, Hannah, and baby girl Lizzie. With no children of her own Ayi was like a second mother to Lizzie, helping out the two struggling parents trying to raise a daughter while both on active service.

"How is she?"

"She's doing okay. We finally got rid of that cough. She's with Hannah on the Yorktown at the moment."

"Good. Far away from all this mess then."

Ayi looked out over the fortifications to the towering mushroom clouds on the horizon, all that remained of the six surface to orbit missile silos.

"You know if it's too hard for them to land troops they'll just bomb us round the Circle from orbit."

"I know. I'm certain General Williams knows that too."

"Better hope he does. I have no intention of being moved on by a kinetic bombardment."

"That's the spirit."

###

The Turian air superiority craft swept through the empty air for the sixth time. Full spectrum scans, emission nets and aerial seek and destroy patterns - Admiral Vargas had lost a full third of his invasion force without even getting boots on the ground and he wasn't going to take any chances before his next attempt to land his troops.

"Admiral, skies are clear. Unless the aliens have technology that makes their fighters literally invisible there's nothing there."

He was silent for a moment.

"Commence deployment of troops. I want our fighters and frigates to escort the landers this time."

"Yes sir."

###

Spetsnaz Lieutenant Radim Alenko lay on the roof of the Shanxi Soviet Worker's House, his heavy sniper rifle deployed and his stealth shroud pulled over his head. Beside him, his close friend Yiiyal-Hcachavu shuffled his own stealth shroud around his bulky body, grumbling. Unlike the Humans and Atavira, the Raachok were extremely adaptable in all walks of life, using their neural nets to create a semi hive mind in any kind of gathering. On the battlefield they were capable of shifting combat doctrine almost instantaneously in order to react to enemy tactics and retain the initiative. That in no way meant Yiiyal enjoyed stealth tactics.

"I hate this thing."

Radim chuckled and nudged his Raachok ally.

"I thought you people were supposed to be adaptable."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Hostile landing craft are en route."

"What happened to the stealth fighters?"

"They had to hide from a search pattern. There's a Union Battlestar on the way, along with a whole bunch of Human ships. We just have to hold out six more days."

"Oh, is that all?"

###

The Turian landers disgorged the last wave of troops, a veritable tent city springing up at their beachhead encampment. The entire ground force was now on the ground, awaiting the order to roll forward and smash aside the defenders of this pitiful world. The final landers pulled away, a steady stream of them heading back to dock with their respective troopships.

The USAF and Red Army stealth fighters chose that moment to strike. Little more than shimmers in the air, they struck from both ends of the column, torrents of mass accelerator slugs and clouds of armour piercing missiles striking out and smashing the landers into so much burning wreckage falling from the sky, trajectories carefully calculated to ensure they didn't land on any populated areas. Only six landers made it back to the troopships, one so badly damaged the technicians were entirely unable to explain how it made it.

Within six minutes of ferocious, one sided aerial slaughter the remnants of two legions were trapped on Shanxi.

###

Seukar Lipp'May Danofach was an unhappy Seu'Seun. He had sneaked his merchandise onto Shanxi hoping to make a quick credit selling them to local gangs and criminal syndicates. Instead he was now forced to release them in order to cover his retreat. He'd need a sample of Turian flesh to sensitise the merchandise, which should be easy enough to obtain, and then he'd let them run rampant through the alien landing zone while he fled in his stealth-shrouded racer.

He wrapped his entire body in a stealth shroud, settling the shell-tight material around himself and checking to ensure it was active before flying out of his racer, wings buzzing angrily. He decelerated and dropped to the ground, lying in wait for his target. The Seu'Seun were brutally effective warriors but their main advantage in a fight was their willingness to stoop to tactics so underhanded and barbaric no other organic would even consider them. The Chryssachae were just one of these tactics.

###

"MEDIC!"

Carissa Vakarian sprinted through the rapidly growing encampment, Phaeston assault rifle in one hand and medikit in the other as she rushed to the source of the panicked scream.

"MEDIC!"

Her breathing pounded in her ears as she skidded round the corner before coming to a sudden, shocked halt.

Saren Arterius, the living legend of the Twelfth Legion, lay on the ground unconscious in a puddle of his own blood, his left arm missing from the elbow down. She knelt down beside him, peeling away the makeshift bandage applied by his squadmates and hurriedly replacing it with a proper pressure patch, following it up with an electrolyte solution injected into his neck to mitigate the bloodloss.

"Spirits, what the fuck happened?"

A sergeant answered her after a moment, the ashen tinge of his throat belying the steady calm of his voice.

"A local predator, I think. Damn thing popped out of nowhere, bit his arm off then vanished."

"Dammit! Alright, you and you haul his sorry ass to the med tent."

The two soldiers just stared in mute shock.

"Now!"

Her voice cut through their stupor like a whip crack, shocking them into action. They picked up the half-dead warrior, carrying him through the camp to the medical tent as Carissa hovered over him, doing her best to keep him alive. They had barely set him down when the next emergency struck.

Apparently whatever had taken Saren's arm had decided Turians were tasty. And had brought some friends to the all you can eat buffet that was the invasion force's main camp.

A solid wall of black chitin armoured creatures swarmed towards the camp, the stuttering of assault rifle fire and the boom of grenades barely making headway against the oncoming horde. The monstrosities ran on two legs, holding their bodies horizontal with grotesque, many eyed heads out in front and long, barbed tails trailing behind. Held up to their chests were four limbs, each one tipped with a seventy centimetre, wickedly curved organic blade. The most terrifying feature were their jaws. Instead of a lower jaw they had five double hinged mandibles, each one with serrated edges, and three long, needle like chitinous spikes that occasionally poked out of their mouths like a gross parody of a tongue. It quickly became apparent to the desperately firing sentries that these creatures were heavily implanted with cybernetic technology - the back of their elongated heads were a mess of wires and metal plates and shimmering blue orbs were implanted into their long necks at regular intervals.

The creatures swarmed into the camp, tearing into the Turian patrols with ferocious hisses, slashing limbs with their bladed arms, mangling torsos with their jaw mandibles or just plunging their needle tongues into their victims who seemed to be paralysed by a quick acting toxin. Spitting a litany of curses to make the spirits cower in shame, Carissa kept one hand on her rifle as the screams of the wounded precluded the rapid filling of her medical tent.

###

Trajeet watched the creatures tearing into the Turian encampment in mounting horror. Watching the chaos of the Chryssachae attack, it took every ounce of his willpower not to help the invaders out. Hostile or not, nobody deserved to suffer through one of those.

The Chryssachae were a Seu'Seun bioweapon. Reverse engineered from Seu'Ikka's apex predator, the Chry'Eueue, the Chryssachae were heavily implanted with cybernetics and dropped in staggering numbers as shock troops and psychological warfare on any world the Seu'Seun planned to invade. Each member of the pack was given a tiny morsel of flesh from the target species. They would then hunt and destroy any member of that species until they were wiped out, the target species were wiped out or the Seu'Seun technicians remotely overrode their hunt command and set them to standby. Owning a Chryssachae was an instant death sentence in all Human and Atavira nations, as well as the Union. The abominations themselves were to be destroyed on sight. Seeing them swarming through the Turian camp was one of the most disturbing things Trajeet had seen.

"Comm link to Generals Corsev and Williams."

Moments later the three way comm link was established.

"Generals. Union Flyer Trajeet-Hcacn, reporting significant Chryssachae activity at the Turian beachhead."

Trajeet was treated to a crash course in English and Russian profanity.

###

Admiral Vargas was highly surprised when the hologram of the Human General Williams appeared on his bridge.

"Admiral Kaius Vargas, is it?"

The soldiers on the bridge started, training their weapons on the hologram.

"How are you talking to me?"

The strange fleshy creature shifted its shoulders around and spread its hands.

"My AI uploaded a translation program to my neural net and hacked your comm system. But that's beside the point. You need to call down an orbital strike on your beachhead camp now."

The sheer ludicrosity of the alien's demands caught Vargas completely by surprise.

"Now why the hell would I do that?"

The general's face shifted to something approximating the Asari expression of great distress.

"You have Chryssachae running rampant through your camp. You need to sterilise it immediately."

"This is ridiculous ..."

"We don't have the numbers or the equipment to stand against a Chryssachae attack! Much as I hate to admit it, your fleet is the only thing that can prevent the extinction of every sentient being on this planet. Please."

Admiral Vargas honestly had no idea what to make of the demands and pleas of this ridiculous alien. His attention was drawn by a sudden welter of distress calls from the beachhead. He looked very closely at the vid feeds. Then he looked back at the hologram.

"General Williams. What exactly are those things attacking my men?"

###

"Attention all aerial assets. This is General Corsev. Your fire priorities are now being altered. Engage all Chryssachae with maximum prejudice. Turian forces are temporarily downgraded from active to potential threat. Corsev out."

###

Boe was very surprised when two very grim looking Turians burst into her cell. She recognised one of them as her 'friend', Mikos. She was very, very surprised when Mikos spoke in faltering English.

"Boe? Help. Attack Turian and Shar Atavira same. Help?"

She cut him off before he could embarrass himself further, a cold ball of dread settling in her gut.

"Don't bother, I speak fluent Turian. What's going on?"

To his credit, Mikos seemed amused rather than angry. His expression quickly regained its grim cast, however.

"I suspected as much. So tell me Boe. What do you know about Chryssachae?"

The cold ball of dread erupted into a blazing supernova of abject, primal terror.

###

Desolas Arterius was the closest to panic he had ever been. His men were being slaughtered by the stuff of nightmares. He was desperately trying to pull them back to a defensible position, cursing the spirits of ill fortune that the landers had been all but obliterated. His men were trapped and being overwhelmed by these monsters. They were all going to die.

His comm channel crackled to life.

"Attention Turians. This is Union Flyer Trajeet-Hcacn of the Fourth Gunship flock. Stand by for danger close air strike."

Moments later four black and green vaguely insectoid looking aircraft appeared above the encampment, mass accelerators opening up on the swarms of savage predators. They finally broke under the fury of the alien assault, fleeing into the forest in a welter of panicked chittering.

"Attention Turians. Prepare for air drop of Chryssachae venom antidote."

Desolas allowed himself to feel a spark of hope once more.

A/N: Well, I have to say I am honestly just as surprised as you by the ending to this chapter, which has effectively invalidated my entire plan for the continuation of this fic. But this is where the plot bunnies bounced to and who am I to disagree with plot bunnies?


	4. Defiance (3)

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has made The Space Race my most successful story so far, and in particular an enormous thank you to my swiftly developing core of regular reviewers. I've decided that in order to thank my feedback squad I'm going to name a character after each one of you. Keep an eye on character names!

###

Two very bizarre looking creatures walked into Carissa Vakarian's med tent. She almost went for her rifle before realising the two of them were under armed guard. Each one was almost nine feet tall, with strange triangular heads and thin, forward curving torsos, slightly curved spikes along their spines and stubby but definite tails, lean arms and legs terminating in five fingered hands. If it wasn't for their green and black coloration they could be mistaken at a distance for incredibly emaciated Krogan.

"Who the hell are you?"

The creatures turned to look at her, blinking. Eventually one of them replied.

"Here to help. Medic Meyeteel-Hchnach at your service, and my daughter Efeeri."

The slightly smaller alien bobbled its head at Carissa. She held up one hand, ensuring the other remained firmly on her rifle.

"Before I let you touch my patients I need a guarantee that you won't harm them in any way."

To her surprise the enormous alien chortled at that.

"I like you, Medic Vakarian. I give you my word as a healer."

She blinked rapidly and pulled her mandibles tight into her face.

"Why?"

The first hint of displeasure seeps into the alien's voice.

"Your little incursion can be written off by my people at least as the blunderings of a child that knows no better. After all, only about ten Raachok have lost their lives as a result of it. The Chryssachae had free rein over our homeworld for almost twelve years before we wiped the last one out. I would not wish that pain on anyone." He paused and looked downwards, making a strange snuffling noise. "I used to have three daughters."

Carissa couldn't help but suddenly think of her own son Garrus and daughter Solana safely home with their aunt on Palaven. The pain of a parent with a lost child transcended the boundaries of species.

"I'm sorry ..."

She was distracted by the holographic figure of another alien, this time one of the humans, appearing over a wounded soldier.

"Alert. Vitals dropping into red zone."

With an explosive bark, what she assumed to be a curse, the two alien medics rushed over to the soldier.

"Thanks Sammi. Diagnostics?"

"Puncture wound to the neck indicates action of paralytic agent."

The two aliens tossed syringes between them, eventually selecting one and shoving it into her hand.

"Main artery in the neck, now."

She mutely complied, pushing the needle into the leathery skin at the side of the soldier's neck. His rapid, shallow panting slowed to a more relaxed pace, the hologram of the human announcing in a flat, emotionless voice that the patient's stats were back in normal parameters. Carissa gestured at the hologram.

"What is that thing?"

The larger Raachok glanced at it.

"Who, Sammi? Medical VI, helps monitor and triage patients."

The hologram winked out, only to appear across the room.

"Alert! Severe internal bleeding!"

No rest for the wicked.

###

To say Admiral Vargas was unhappy would be like saying the Defender of Palaven was a pretty big spaceship. He had been completely and utterly wrong-footed by the events of the past two hours. He had gone from watching the aliens desperately prepare to fend off his army to watching the aliens help them defend against an attack by an out of control bioweapon. At first he had been skeptical, but he had started to come around when the aliens had revealed the location of their invisible gunships hovering over the beachhead camp in order to prevent his men from getting overwhelmed. The trend had only continued when they airlifted medics and antidote in to cure his men of the paralytic poison carried by the creatures. And now one of the enemy commanders in chief was offering to come aboard his flagship, alone and unarmed, to aid in co-ordinating their forces against these 'Chryssachae'. If this was a ruse, it was an absurdly poorly designed one.

The alien shuttle hovered twenty kilometres off his port bow as one of his very few landers rode over with a team of soldiers to search the ship top to bottom for any sign of weapon. Almost twenty minutes passed before the ship was declared clear and allowed to dock.

He made his way down to the shuttle dock himself to meet the aliens. When he got there he was very surprised to see two completely different species.

"Who the hell are you?"

The Human in the dark red uniform blinked, presumably surprised by his bluntness, before replying.

"General Mikhail Corsev, Red Army. This is Jonjaim-Bholien, the closest we have to a Chryssachae expert."

The enormous Raachok nodded at Vargas, regarding him with a single acid green eye set in his drab olive fur. The alien was wearing a heavy suit of matte black armour with a couple of large and conspicuously vacant mountings on the shoulder and forearms, making Vargas suspect the suit's integrated weaponry had been hastily removed.

Vargas nodded at the two aliens. Usually he would be the first to advocate their subjugation but right now the legion and a half trapped on the planet below demanded he play diplomat for now.

"Admiral, with your permission we would like to send our ground forces to support your soldiers at their camp."

"Why? We're an invading army."

The red-clad general chuckled and shook his head.

"You're clearly not desperately committed to destroying us, and you're willing to listen to reason. That puts you two up on the Chryssachae."

"One more thing before we continue. Your friend Williams mentioned AI."

"Hmm?" Corsev quickly remembered Mel's warning. "Oh, we actually prefer the term SI, or Simulated Intelligence. Don't worry, they're not self aware. Now where were we?"

###

Ayi was distinctly glad of her helmet. She had a feeling that if the Turians could make eye contact she'd collapse under the weight of the stares. Next to her, her battle-sister Beyogi Muale nervously stroked the haft of her axe.

"Peace, Beyo. We're supposed to be friends, remember?"

The older commando shook her head and chuckled wryly.

"I'll relax when I'm dead. I trust them about as far as I could throw a fully armoured Seu'Seun."

"How far is that?"

"I don't know. Last time I tried I near got my pretty head torn off."

The banter helped ease some of the tension from Ayi's frame, although she could feel alien eyes burning into the back of her head.

The warrior priestess leading their unit marched right up to the Turian general.

"General Arterius?"

He seemed mildly startled she spoke perfect Turian, but nodded.

"Muale unit, Shanxi Pest Control department. We heard you have a Chryssachae infestation."

Her wry humour drew coughing barks from several of the assembled Turians. Ayi fervently hoped it was laughter.

"Very well. If you would follow me to the perimeter. The creatures are holding off for now but we're fairly sure they're going to attack again."

The priestess chuckled darkly.

"They're Chryssachae. Of course they're going to attack again. And when they do we'll bump them round the circle so fast they won't stop skidding until the universe implodes."

Ayi wished she shared the priestess's confidence.

###

Carissa leaned against the table, exhausted and coated in Turian blood. It had taken three hours for her and her medical team, assisted by the two Raachok, to finally finish patching up the wounded from the last wave. The two aliens were practically machines. When they had finished they hadn't stopped to congratulate themselves or slump in exhaustion. They had merely asked directions to the nearest place they could find a dead Chryssachae, for what purpose she could only imagine.

Her Omnitool started beeping and a tired smile separated her mandibles as she saw who it was. She accepted the call.

"Cadmus."

"Carissa! Spirits, what happened, you're covered in blood!"

She groaned.

"Not mine. Just been sticking people back together. How are you?"

He idly fiddled with the end of his mandible.

"I'm fine in my big spaceship. You're the one down on the ground with those ... those things. What are they?"

"Apparently a rampant bioweapon. They were created by a species hostile to the ones on this planet. We've got an awful lot of aliens down here in the camp and they all speak flawless Turian."

"How are you holding up?"

She stifled a gulp.

"I ... I'm tired and scared and I wish we were far away on Palaven with Garrus and Solana. But I have a duty to heal my fellow soldiers. So here I am."

Her husband looked dejected.

"I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

"Just seeing you is enough. Thank you, Cadmus."

"I love you, Carissa."

"As I you. Goodnight."

She cut the comm line and slumped against the gurney with a sigh.

###

Captain Kronen-Hsechen of the Raachok Battlestar 'Wildcard-Hesman' grinned in savage delight as the 1850 metre Battlestar slipped entirely unnoticed through the most advanced sensor grid in the Union. The ship was shaped vaguely like an enormous dragonfly crossed with a scorpion, a thick body with a pair of thin wings projecting out from the sides tipped by a spherical bridge, the wings containing the sublight engines and HR motors, and then a long tail with two more HR motors on the end. The main striking power of the ship were the two enormous weapon batteries slung on arms out and beneath the main body like the claws of the scorpion, each one loaded to the brim with short range antimatter missiles. This was the Raachok Union's equivalent of the Odessa dreadnought or Shepard supercarrier, that thing that conventional fleet doctrine held was impossible, an ambush predator in space. The stealth shroud alone cost almost three trillion standardised credits, making the Wildcard one of a kind for sure, but as a proof of concept she was brutally effective. And she was en route to Shanxi with the rest of the battlegroup.

Kronen chuckled at the sudden explosion of surprised curses over the comm as the Wildcard reappeared behind the sensor station that was supposed to be looking for her, spewing death from her missile batteries. The dummy munitions bounced off the sensor station's hull with a series of dull clunks transmitted to his brain via the neural net link between him and the staff of the sensor station.

"Dead again. There's no way your sensor net will be able to pick is up unless we let you."

The sensor tech muttered a string of invective before logging the result in his computer system. Wildcard - 12 0 - Sensors. These aliens were in for a nasty surprise indeed.

A/N: Yes Wildcard, you got a giant invisible spaceship. Feel free to squee in delight.

###

Beyogi threw her hand out, gathering raw energy from the aether around her arm before sweeping it into a complex sigil that hung in the air, blazing out in pure white light. She focused her entire being on the sigil, letting it expand to fill her mind before lashing her hands out, the pure energy breaking from its pattern to surge through her body and arc from her fingers in the characteristic fizzing flash of chained lightening. The bolts of ionized air sliced through the advancing mass of black chitin, splitting shells and severing limbs as the Chryssachae horde scrambled over themselves to escape her attack. She let the energy go after about ten seconds and sixteen Chryssachae, to see several Turians looking at her with an expression of dumb amazement.

"What?"

She punctuated her question by pumping a grenade into the horde, redirecting the dumbstruck aliens's attention back to their targets.

"What was that, some kind of biotic?"

"I have no idea. I'm just glad we're not fighting it."

She tuned out the whispered conversation as she continued to send rounds at the horde. The Chryssachae were finally breaking, the survivors of the wave fleeing in disarray. Beyogi let herself slump to the ground, panting fiercely. Sigils were incredibly hard work.

###

Vargas, Corsev and Jonjaim were bent over a data table, watching the ebb and flow of the Chryssachae around the beachhead encampment. They had been for the past three days. Searching. So far the big Raachok hadn't said a word, instead keeping his eyes focused on the projection, and Corsev had only briefly explained that they were looking for a pattern. Vargas had to admit he was starting to see one emerge. Every time a wave broke the survivors followed a looping path round the encampment, reinforcements seemingly popping out of nowhere to swell their numbers and keep the pressure on the beleaguered defenders. He examined the reinforcements closer. They were popping out of the ground seemingly, the directions they were heading random, but based on the frequency ...

"Here."

All three men put their fingers on the same spot at the same time.

"Alright. There's the nest."

Vargas glanced up at Corsev.

"Nest?"

"Source of reinforcements. We need to neutralise it."

"Orbital bombardment?"

For the first time Jonjaim spoke up. His voice had an oddly synthesised tone to it, sounding almost artificial.

"No. At least not immediately."

"Why not?"

He swept one hand round in a gesture that encompasses the entire Chryssachae horde.

"We need to wound the Queen but not kill her. The entire horde will fall back to the nest to protect the Queen. Then we drop a big rock on her head."

Vargas nodded slowly.

"Good, good. I like it. So how do we get men into the nest to wound the thing?"

"Hmm. We'll need full stealth shrouds. They're damn difficult to make though so we're limited in our ground team numbers."

"How many?"

Corsev pondered the question.

"Ten."

###

Saren groggily opened his eyes, rubbing his forehead with a groan as he hauled himself up. Wait a second ... He was pretty sure his arm had fallen off. He grabbed at the offending limb, finding smooth hard metal in the place of springy plating.

"Captain Arterius! Glad to see you up."

He turned his head to the source of the voice.

"Sergeant Vakarian wasn't it? What have I missed? And where did this replacement arm come from?"

She scratched nervously at her mandibles.

"Spirits, where to start? We were attacked by a rampant bioweapon deployed by a species hostile to the natives of this world. We ended up fighting with the defenders against these creatures. As for your arm, that's an, um," she checked her Omnitool, "Emaris emergency battlefield prosthesis. Meyeteel and Efeeri modified it for you."

He wiggled the three fingers. The shape of the arm and hand was subtly different from what he was used to. At least it had the right number of fingers.

###

"This is Admiral Vargas. I am here with General Corsev of the Red Army. We have identified the Chryssachae nest and require ten volunteers for a strike team. I won't lie - this will likely be a suicide mission, but if it is successful it will be the death blow against these abominations. Vargas out."

###

The ten volunteers sat in the lander soaring up to the Defender of Palaven, each one sizing up the others. Wondering which of them were going to survive.

Saren Arterius, living legend of the 12th Legion, now minus one limb and wanting revenge.

Carissa Vakarian, one of the most skilled combat medics in the Legion, only following her calling to protect her fellow soldiers.

Keltik Reparran, veteran of hundreds of Hierarchy stealth operations, volunteering because of his sense of duty.

Aisard Borronis, leader of the Cabal unit attached to the 12th, in it for nothing more than the thrill of the fight.

Adam Shepard, poster boy for the US Grenadiers, determined to stop the Chryssachae from running rampant over his planet.

Radim Alenko, reputed as ruthless and uncompromising even among the Spetsnaz, lending his stealth expertise to the mission.

Yiiyal-Hcachavu, Raachok Night Warrior, following his best friend Radim straight into the jaws of hell.

Jonjaim-Bholien, expert in the art of killing Chryssachae, going along to ensure every last one died violently.

Ayi Muale, Emaris commando, volunteering to ensure her god-daughter didn't lose a parent today.

Beyogi Muale, veteran of the Tirfan Incursion, taking any opportunity to exercise her burning hatred of the Chryssachae.

The ten warriors in the shuttle looked at each other with some measure of nervousness, each one wary that some of the others in the shuttle four days ago were determined to kill them. And now they were thrown together in an alliance of necessity. Ready to kill or be killed not for the Hierarchy, or for their nation, but for every living being on Shanxi.

###

A/N: 100 favs! Woot! Just to reassure some of you guys, the unexpected plot bunnies in no way ended this fic. And just to clear something up - just because the Chryssachae are sensitised to Turians doesn't mean they won't attack anyone else if they're hungry. They are animals after all. Thanks to subsider34 for pointing that out.


	5. Defiance (4)

A/N: As requested, a short codex on the Atavira.

###

CODEX

The Atavira are a dextro amino humanoid race originating from the planet Pau. Pau is a very hot planet covered almost entirely in deserts of black sand and active volcanic zones, and has around 30% ocean cover in hundreds of small seas, which are very rich in element zero. The Atavira evolved into three separate subspecies in order to adapt to different areas of the planet.

The Shar Atavira are large, usually standing at around seven foot and massing around two hundred pounds. They evolved to thrive in the coastal regions which suffer from an over abundance of fierce predators, naturally becoming stronger and more aggressive than the other Atavira clades. All Shar are natural biotics and also possess electric glands in their hands similar to Earth electric eels but far more powerful. With proper training, a Shar can combine their biotic potential with their electric glands to project arcs of electricity from their fingers.

The Elloi Atavira evolved in the deserts between the seas where the biggest challenge was finding water and food. Elloi stand at between five foot and five foot six and are also much thinner than the muscular Shar, usually massing around ninety to one hundred pounds. They have evolved incredible endurance, able to survive almost two weeks without drinking and just over a month without eating. They are usually industrious and committed workers but are naturally quite timid, leading some Shar to consider them to be second class citizens in Atavira society.

The Auwl Atavira evolved in the most inhospitable of Pau's environments - the volcanic zones. The Auwl appear very gangly by Human standards, with very long arms and legs proportional to their torsos. Their arms and legs are coated with a hard exoskeleton that can withstand extremes of heat and their fingers and toes are tipped with long talons designed for climbing. Auwl are also much faster than Shar or Elloi, able to sprint at speeds in excess of seventy kilometres an hour. Auwl have a deserving reputation as being violent and untrustworthy, having evolved in an environment where they may be forced to kill a friend over a shelter spot during an eruption. This has led to a good deal of persecution of Auwl in Pau's history. Auwl genes are recessive, meaning that as the species mingles Auwl are slowly becoming more and more like the other clades as each generation passes, although there are several splinter groups of Auwl who have a purist attitude and so will only breed with other Auwl. In addition, Auwl males are far more frequent than Shar or Elloi males, with a frequency of 1 in 10 rather than the 1 in 100 of the other clades.

Because males are so rare in Atavira society each one usually has a harem of around twenty five females at any one time, almost a mirror image of Salarian society. Many Atavira females turn to artificial insemination in order to start families and because of the scarcity of males the Atavira species has the second highest incidence of interspecies relationships in the galaxy, although unlike the Asari no children can come of these pairings.

Pau is split into four nations: Emaris (Purity), Haeli (Sanctuary), Maraliu (Peace) and Kesla (Freedom). Pau has been scarred by hundreds of wars between these nations, in particular Haeli and Kesla, since those two nations have strong ideological differences and share an extensive border, as well as competition for natural resources. Maraliu are a pacifist nation who remain neutral in almost any conflict, and Emaris is the largest and most influential nation, claiming around forty per cent of the planet as their territory. Kesla have an extensive history of persecution, with 99% of their population being Shar. The very few Elloi foolish enough to make their homes in Kesla are used as slave labour and Auwl are persona non grata in Kesla territory. Haeli by contrast have the highest Auwl population of the nations, at about 50% Shar, 40% Elloi and 10% Auwl. Haelians see Keslans as backwards bigots while Keslans see Haelians as weak and impure. Maraliu has the highest Elloi population of the nations, at 70% Elloi, 26% Shar and 4% Auwl, and Emaris is broken down into 65% Shar, 30% Elloi and 5% Auwl.

###

Martin 'Sloppy' King scratched his beard in consternation at the manufacturing order coming in from Corsev. Ten full stealth suits, two Human, two Atavira, two Raachok and four ... the hell's a Turian? Oh it's okay, Commad sent schematics. Plus ten sets full stealthed weapons. An interesting order indeed.

Whistling to himself, Sloppy fired up his equipment. The arms manufacturing facility he ran, buried beneath the Soviet colony, was fully automated and thus only required a single monitor, more to relay instructions to Hornet, the AI in charge of the facility, and keep the crazy silicon bastard company than anything else.

"Hey Horny."

Hornet's avatar appeared and buzzed round his head.

"You know I hate it when you call me that."

"Yeah. Why do you think I do it?"

"I'm sorely tempted to build a mech for the sole purpose of kicking your arse."

Sloppy nearly fell over laughing every time Hornet said 'arse' in that utterly pretentious British accent of his.

"Alright, stop it. What's the job?"

Sloppy finally managed to draw a breath.

"Ten stealth suits with weapons. I'm sending the schematics now."

"Thanks, arsehole."

"Go fuck yourself in the CPU."

"Yeah yeah. Suck my sixty four bit high definition fully rendered holographic cock."

Chuckling, Sloppy sauntered through the facility to the moulding room, where ten moulds were already being assembled by nanobots. Ten very lifelike moulds. He stared at the Atavira moulds.

"Oh boy."

###

The stealth transport decloaked, hovering above the beachhead camp, gun turrets sweeping the area for hostiles before the plane settled down in the landing field. The constant stream of invisible aircraft flying to and from the facility served a dual purpose - airlifting in supplies without tipping off the Chryssachae, and subtly reinforcing to the Turians that if they tried anything there could be an invisible gunship thirty metres above them and they wouldn't know until they took a round through the skull.

The ten volunteers watched as an incredibly scruffy Human man emerged from the transport and unceremoniously dumped ten bags in front of them.

"Here's your kit."

Radim playfully punched the man on the arm.

"Thanks, Sloppy. You're a lifesaver."

The bearded Human shrugged and chortled at the suspicious expressions on the Turians's faces.

"Don't worry, the bombs only go off when you want them to."

Still chuckling, he sauntered back to the transport, the volunteers watching as it lifted off and disappeared.

"Who was that guy?"

Radim shrugged.

"Who, Sloppy? Best weaponsmith I've ever encountered. Come on, we need to get our stealth gear ready."

###

Primarch Samaellus nodded at the figure of the Admiral sitting on his screen.

"Admiral Vargas? What news of the invasion?"

The Admiral didn't reply straight away, something which almost immediately set the Primarch on edge. After a while Vargas seemed to collect himself.

"This whole attack was a fool's errand, Primarch."

Samaellus's mandibles went slack in amazement.

"What we assumed to be a rogue faction are actually a coalition of three species, with technology surpassing our own. They killed two thirds of a legion before they even set foot on the planet, targeted the troopships with a ballistic missile attack. The Shield of the Hierarchy was crippled in the same attack. They then attacked our landers while they were returning to the troopships with atmospheric aircraft, trapping the remainder of our ground forces on the planet."

The Primarch held up a hand, looking stunned.

"Atmospheric aircraft? What were their casualties?"

"None, sir."

"None!"

The Admiral clicked his mandibles together and rubbed his fringe.

"Their stealth technology is centuries ahead even of the Salarians. Their military aircraft, ground vehicles and in some cases their soldiers are quite literally invisible."

"What are our ground casualties?"

"Including the losses we took when they hit our troopships, forty thousand men."

Samaellus was at a loss for words. An entire legion!

"What grade of punitive bombardment have you initiated?"

"None, sir."

"Why the Spirits not?"

"Because we're allied with them now."

It was very rare that something could make Admiral Kaius Vargas squirm. Primarch Samaellus was accomplishing this feat admirably.

"Excuse my unprofessionalism, Admiral, but what the fuck are you doing over there?"

"A species hostile to the defenders of the planet released a biological weapon. With my men trapped on the ground, we were forced into a truce in order to combat the greater threat."

"So presumably once you have eliminated this bioweapon the invasion will recommence?"

At this point Vargas looked like he was working up courage.

"Admiral?"

"Primarch, I request permission to open negotiations for an alliance between the Turian Hierarchy and the following parties: United States of America, United Soviet Socialist Republics, Raachok Union and the Atavira nations of Emaris, Haeli, Maraliu and Kesla."

"What?"

If the Primarch didn't know better he would think Vargas had a note of pleading in his voice.

"Primarch, they've sent their soldiers to stand beside ours and defend our camp. Their medics have ran themselves into the ground saving the lives of our wounded soldiers. They revealed the location of their stealth gunships in order to save our men from being overwhelmed in the first wave of attacks. They're trusting us. If we betray that trust, we lose any chance of gaining access to their technology and resources."

"Except through conquest."

The Admiral felt a spark of anger in his chest but kept his voice level.

"This planet alone has claimed a full legion so far. The death toll of an invasion for our forces would be astronomical."

Samaellus leaned back in his seat, looking at the image of Vargas with a pensive expression.

"You really think it is the best option?"

"Yes Primarch, I do."

"Very well. Permission granted."

###

"I'll feel like a damn stripper in this getup."

Beyogi chuckled at Ayi's grumbling.

"Trust me, if this didn't make me invisible I wouldn't be touching it either. But it does, so I am. We've got a job to do."

She grunted in agreement and started stripping off her armour. The process of making an organic life form fully stealth capable was a long and complex one. First a chemical shower to remove all traces of scent from their bodies, then a sprayed on layer to prevent the shedding of DNA material and finally the very, very skintight stealth shroud itself went on.

Finally she sealed up the seam at the front of the stealth shroud, the nanoreactive material folding over to hide the small break as she glanced over at Beyogi. Even without the stealth field active the material was difficult to look at, almost feeling slippery to the eye as her gaze kept sliding off to fix on something more solid.

"That is some weird stuff."

Beyogi glanced down at herself, then at Ayi.

"Remember that time I said I hate stealth shrouds?"

"Which one?"

The sisters shared a laugh as they headed out of the tent and to the assembly area.

###

"Come on Adam, he barely broke atmo and Gagarin beat him by a couple of months."

"True, but Gagarin didn't go on to command the construction of our first permanent moon base."

"Oh, come on. Gagarin was the commander of the first Soviet orbital shipyard."

"Did Gagarin's great granddaughter invent the hyper-relativity motor?"

"Ah, come on. That doesn't count, it wasn't him."

Carissa leaned over to Yiiyal.

"What are they arguing about?"

The Raachok glanced at them and chuckled.

"Those two? Oh, they're just having another round of Shepard vs. Gagarin."

Carissa looked blank.

"Yuri Gagarin was the first Russian in space, and is Radim's wife's direct ancestor. Alan Shepard was the first American in space and is Adam's direct ancestor. The two of them are constantly bitching over who's better."

After a moment she worked through her confusion enough to ask.

"Why?"

Yiiyal shrugged again.

"I've known Radim since I was six years old and I still don't understand that man. Humans are a confusing species, you'll find."

The transport started to decelerate, the stealth shroud concealing the steady throbbing of the twin aerofans holding the ship aloft but having the effect of magnifying the sound inside the craft, trading silence on the outside for a constant head pounding assault of sound on the inside. The pilot yelled back to them.

"Alright, hats on kiddies. We're almost at the playground."

Fighting down her confusion at the pilot's mannerisms, Carissa pulled the stealth shroud's hood over her head, then the mask over her face, sealing it at her neck. For a split second the shroud blocked out all light before a HUD appeared before her, her allies outlined in a green wire mesh. As the most experienced at fighting Chryssachae, Jonjaim was in command of the operation and he stood at the drop point, gesturing at the weapons.

"Make sure your weapons are stealthed before you put them on your racks. A bunch of rifles floating in midair will make the Chryssachae a mite suspicious. Remember, the stealth shrouds will block out all sounds coming from inside the shroud but they won't hide your footsteps so tread carefully. We'll exit the top hatch, then run along the top of the transport and drop down from the tail. Do not go within the red zones on your HUD. If you do you'll get sucked into the aerofan and turned into bolognese. Green is good, red is bad, for the benefit of our Turian friends. Remember, our objective is to wound the Queen but leave her alive and functional. One final thing, we're stealthing in and slaughtering out. When we're making a sneaky sneak don't kill anything unless you absolutely have to. The Chryssachae are mind linked so if one dies they all know about it. Any questions?"

Saren was the first to speak up.

"What does the Queen look like?"

"Like a regular Chryssachae but very, very big."

"So why are we trying to wound not kill?"

"If we wound the Queen every single Chryssachae on the planet will come running to protect her. Then your Admiral up in his fancy spaceship can drop rocks on her head and take out every damn one of them. If we kill the Queen they scatter, another one mutates into a Queen and we're back to square one."

Nobody else had a question.

"Okay, let's go."

The Raachok crouched down, boosting each team member up in turn, then leaping up himself.

"Everyone, stealth up."

With a collection of shimmers in the air, the team engaged their stealth, each one disappearing from Carissa's HUD to be replaced by a green wire frame.

"Keltik, I can still see your shotgun."

He nodded thanks to her and tapped it, the weapon disappearing a moment later.

"Move out."

Rappelling off an invisible gunship using an invisible rope while invisible with three newly discovered alien species - if somebody had told Carissa she'd be doing this ten days ago she would have run a tox screen for hallucinogens.

"Everyone good?"

She let go of her death grip on the rope, thankful that the stealth shroud had blocked her terrified scream.

"Mikhail, this is Jonjaim. Infiltration team is now on the ground. Preparing to breach the hive."

"Copy that, Jonjaim. Good luck and Godspeed."

Jonjaim toggled the comm link and waved them onwards, coming to the entrance of the tunnel.

"We only get one shot at this. If a Chryssachae detects you, run like hell for the dropship and the rest of us will push on. And remember, the lives of every sentient being on the planet depend on our success here."

"So no pressure then."

The wire frame figure of Radim reached over and cuffed the wire frame figure of Adam round the head.

"Ow!"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They started to descend into the tunnel, the stealth shroud blocking the pounding of Carissa's heart from the outside world but magnifying it in her ears until it held the fury of a war drum.

###

"Infiltration team have entered the tunnels."

Corsev sat down heavily on the edge of the table, trying to conceal his nervousness from the Turian admiral.

"Their fates are out of our hands now."

He glanced back at Vargas.

"I know. I still don't like sending them into what's likely a suicide mission."

"Peace, Mikhail. Trust in your men."

"So what's going to happen once we're done with the Chryssachae? Back to being enemies?"

"Actually no. My superiors have agreed to allow me to open negotiations for a peaceful alliance between our peoples."

Corsev raised one eyebrow.

"Boys?"

A disembodied voice spoke up from beside the General.

"No deception sir."

"Stand down."

As the twelve Spetsnaz commandoes destealthed in the bridge and holstered their rifles, Vargas wasn't sure whether he was angry or amused.

###

The ten infiltrators were sneaking through the winding tunnels dug by the Chryssachae, their footfalls almost silent yet impossibly loud in their heads. Every sound one of them made was enough to make them freeze, looking around desperately for any sign of approaching Chryssachae. But none appeared every time.

"This is too easy. Where are all the bugs?"

Ayi agreed with Aisard. So far they hadn't come across a single Chryssachae.

"Speak of the devil ..."

The chittering and clicking of clawed feet preceded the group of four Chryssachae. The infiltration squad stopped short, pressing themselves against the walls of the tunnel just in time to avoid the scuttling creatures as they passed them by.

"That was close. Everyone stay sharp."

They detached themselves from the wall and pressed on.

It took a good twenty minutes for them to fully infiltrate through to the central chamber, formed from a natural cave enlarged by thousands of razor sharp claws. They immediately fanned out, checking over their local area and ensuring they could secure it. Then Aisard looked up.

"Spirits of air and darkness ..."

They all knew the Queen would be big. None of them had realised exactly how big. The monstrous creature was at least four storeys tall.

"So what's the plan?"

###

"Councillor Luceius. We need to talk."

The Turian turned around and quirked a mandible at Councillor Ikksi.

"How may I be of assistance?"

"Why have you sent an invasion fleet to Relay 314?"

"Hmm? Invasion fleet? I hardly think so. A task force for a police action against a rogue element attempting to tamper with the Relay, that's all."

The Salarian woman crossed her arms.

"Don't play games with me, Luceius. We both know six dreadnoughts and two legions under Admiral Kaius Vargas is hardly a 'task force'."

"We're unsure of the disposition of the base of these rogues. The Primarch elected to strike with overwhelming force to secure a quick pacification."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Of course. I understand completely. The STG does instil a fair amount of ... caution in its alumni."

She let the barb pass.

"There is a difference between caution and paranoia."

"Of course, of course. Don't worry about it. The Hierarchy has this in hand."

###

"Gah! Son of a Krogan-fucking shadow spirit!"

Saren ducked the flailing claws of a Chryssachae and punched out with his cybernetic arm, slamming his hand through the throat of the offending bug.

"Whose idea was this!"

The enraged shrieks of the Queen echoed up the passageway behind them as they desperately shot, blew and hacked through the wall of black chitin bearing down on them in the opposite direction. Beside him, Adam Shepard's Mjolnir mass accelerator cannon roared, hardened shell ripping through the swarm.

"I can see daylight!"

At the shout, the squad redoubled their attacks, the two Atavira at the front coated in turquoise gore as their axes rose and fell, each blow splitting shell and flesh. They were going to make it.

###

"We're clear! Fire!"

The last of the Chryssachae swarmed into the underground lair, clustering up to defend their Queen, as the transponder signals for the infiltration team crossed the blue line indicating the maximum blast radius of the dreadnought's main cannon. Vargas was thrilled to see seven transponders still functioning.

"Bridge to gunnery. Execute firing solution one."

The dreadnought's main gun spat three shards of hyperaccelerated metal at the rampant bioweapons. That was all they needed.

###

Adam Shepard. Radim Alenko. Yiiyal-Hcachavu. Three soldiers sacrificed to save a planet. For a general that would be acceptable losses. For a medic, every life lost was a failure. Carissa pressed her hands to the sides of her face to stop the quivering of her mandibles as the dropship soared back to the Turian beachhead camp, the cheering over the comm not breaching the somber mood in the cabin of the transport. One of the Atavira - Ayi, she thought - had placed a metal ring on each vacant seat. Some way of marking the dead, she assumed. However much good it did.

###

On the edge of the system a faint flicker in space. Power hungry energy sinks sucked in the customary blaze of exotic particles as warships of varying size and shape slipped into existence unnoticed. Only the Union had the technology to make anything bigger than a destroyer invisible, but that didn't mean the fleets couldn't be damn quiet as they slowly slipped through the system, prowling up to the as yet unsuspecting Turian warships.

On the bridge of the Yorktown, Rear Admiral Hackett frowned at his display.

"Sir. Looks like the hostiles initiated a bombardment with their primary cruiser. Three mass accelerator strikes, grouped very closely."

"Target?"

"No stationary targets in the area. Probably orbital fire support."

"No matter. Prepare the mass catapults, launch squadrons 1 through 8 Pyros and 1 through 4 Vortexes."

"Affirmative sir. Fighters and gunboats scrambling."

"Instruct the armada to launch half their strike complement."

The fighter control officer turned to him with a wry grin.

"Gunboat diplomacy, sir?"

"The best kind."


	6. Defiance (5)

The entirety of the Yorktown rattled as the carrier's mass catapults flung the Pyro class fighter-bombers and Vortex class heavy gunboats toward the unsuspecting Turian fleet. Looking forward out of the bridge's viewscreen Hackett could observe the clouds of strike craft dwindling to pinpricks in space, holographic ID tags following them as they lanced out. As soon as the fighters were clear their tiny micro-HRs kicked in, propelling them at three times the speed of light and slashing their charge to merely two hours. With the fleet six light-hours away from the hostiles the strike groups would be within combat range well before the Turians even realised they had some incoming friends.

The Pyro class fighter-bomber consisted of two modules connected by a bracing strut. The first was the cockpit module, containing the pilot, co-pilot and life support systems as well as the control interfaces. The second module was twice the length of the cockpit and contained the proton shielding core, pee-beep and Avalanche hybrid-nuclear missiles. Between these two modules was a micro HR motor and either side, on each end of the bracing strut, was an enormous cylindrical plasma thrust unit. By comparison the Vortex class gunboat consisted of three modules, a central three man cockpit module between two larger weapon modules, each one loaded up with Avalanche munitions and four turreted Phoenix heavy autocannon, making them sluggish but more than capable of laying down a withering fusillade of fire. The HR motor was located on a spur that descended vertically down from the cockpit module, the bracing strut drooping down 45 degrees at the ends to the engines and making the fighter look like a distorted E shape from the front. The Avalanche missiles were essentially smaller, smarter versions of the ballistic missiles launched by the defenders of Shanxi, deceptively difficult to hit with point defences and packing a three stage warhead - element zero stage to disrupt the shield, then a heavy tungsten carbide armour piercing round and finally a 2 kiloton baby nuke. Each Pyro carried eight, each Vortex carried thirty two. Twelve ships per squadron, sixteen squadrons of Pyros and eight squadrons of Vortexes. Do some quick calculations and it quickly becomes apparent that the unsuspecting Turians currently had no less than five thousand six hundred and thirty two Avalanche missiles bearing down on them. At this precise moment in time being Turian was a poor survival trait.

###

Rear Admiral Fang arranged her battlegroup into a suitable offensive formation and watched the engagement clock ticking down in her display. They would time their HR jump to arrive approximately one hundred and eighty seconds after the American fighter strike hit. In responding to the chaos of close range assault with pee-beeps and Avalanche missiles the Turians would be completely unprepared for the sudden assault from her ships. Her battlecruiser would open up with the two main proton beams, the shots probably powerful enough to punch through the Turian line cruisers in a single hit. Her grand cruisers would join in the barrage on the enemy cruisers as her line cruisers hit the frigates hard, with her frigates laying down a solid fire base and her destroyers encircling the formation and tearing down any who tried to flee. A fairly standard tactic but brutally devastating against an inferior force. Combined with the chaos of the fighter strike and whatever the hell Kronen was going to do with his big ass invisible battlecruiser and these 'Turians' wouldn't even know what hit them.

###

The Union Battlestar 'Wildcard-Hesman' seemed to shiver in anticipation as her HR motors span up. She would jump right past the Turian task force and immediately stealth, turning round to blitz the backside of the fleet with MOAR weapons (Medium Oblique Antimatter Rockets). Timed to arrive exactly two minutes before the American fighter strike, the Turians would be caught between two opposing hostiles and be thrown into chaos just in time for the Soviets to arrive and smash the hammer down on the beleaguered hostiles. He didn't expect them to last very long under the combined force of the allied fleets. He was going to enjoy this.

###

The AI network. That virtual realm where the artificial intelligences that seven societies were built on communed, communicated, socialised and evolved. An invisible web of information available only to AIs and those few organics who decided to have the blue box operation, implant a quantum computer into their brains and become true hybrids of organic and AI. Lightspeed was no barrier to these synthetic life forms, information flowing near instantaneously between them.

One tiny portion of that data stream was occupied by several AIs frantically pinging data at their counterparts six light hours away. It took fourteen seconds - an aeon by AI standards - for the AI of the carrier Yorktown to respond to the data packets. It then took another twelve nanoseconds for Yorkie to ping the data around the rest of the American fleet AIs. Two microseconds later the data stream reached the Soviet ships, already spinning up their HR motors. Six nanoseconds later the Soviet AIs, in particular the flagship AI Su, agreed with the sentiments of their American counterparts. Thirteen microseconds later Vahli, the Wildcard's AI, also agreed with the data. On Shanxi, Ash and Mel felt surges of relief as their brothers and sisters took action. And just like that the AIs despised by Citadel society prevented the annihilation of the Turian armada and a resultant war that would devastate the galaxy.

###

"Citizens of the Hierarchy. I am Admiral Kaius Vargas and I bring glad news. We have made first contact with a new, powerful spacefaring coalition of species, with power almost equalling that of the Citadel Council. We made a mistake. We killed some of them, and they killed some of us over a misunderstanding. But another species, one hostile to both them and us, released a swarm of monstrous cybernetic creatures called Chryssachae onto the world we were doing battle on, with the intention of wiping out both them and us. We were forced by circumstance to ally in the face of a greater threat, and together we eliminated that threat. I have seen what we can accomplish together with our new found allies. I have seen their medics working themselves to exhaustion saving our soldiers. I have seen their warriors stand shoulder to shoulder with ours. So I ask of you, citizens of the Hierarchy. Will we allow our stubborn foolishness resume a war that would decimate our armies, destroy our fleets and bring nothing but senseless death? Or will we embrace these new peoples as friends and allies?"

The newly promoted Admiral Hackett watched the news feed from his bed, feeling the warmth of the newly promoted Admiral Fang pressed into his side.

"It's certainly an impressive speech. We must have scared them good."

Fang reached behind her and shifted a pillow to make herself more comfortable.

"Come now Steven. Surely they only wish to extend the hand of friendship to our wonderful culture?"

He chuckled at the sarcastic tone of Fang's voice.

"Of course. And if we place, say, schematics for a proton beam cannon into said hand that's just an unexpected bonus?"

She snorted in amusement.

"Of course. I suppose only time will tell if the other hand contains a dagger destined for our backs."

###

Councillor Luceius couldn't quite believe what he was reading. He had always known Primarch Samaellus was disdainful of the Hierarchy's reliance on Asari diplomats and Salarian spies but this was completely out of the blue.

It had been around three weeks since first contact between the Hierarchy and these species, Human, Raachok and Atavira. They really were something else. Technologically speaking they were more advanced than any Council race but only just - their element zero based technology was unbelievably primitive, balancing out their advanced weapons, shielding, medical and stealth technology. Think how that stuck up Asari and nosy Salarian would react if the Hierarchy gained access to those particle beams! Every pirate in the Terminus would fear to trespass in Hierarchy space! And that stealth technology could boost their special operations and intelligence agencies past the STG.

Then again, the presence of these new aliens could be a further destabilising influence on the Council. Nobody wanted to admit it but in recent years the relationships between the Council species had been particularly strained. There were really three main issues pulling the Council apart.

The first was the Volus. Recently there had been enormous pressure from the Vol Protectorate for a council seat, supported by the Turians. The Volus had, in his opinion, earned their seat with the Unified Banking Act, essentially creating the galactic economy from scratch. The Asari and Salarians were resisting the push tooth and talon, well aware that giving the Volus a seat would be tantamount to giving the Turians two seats. The conflict was slowly and inexorably pushing the galaxy into recession as several major Volus corporations slowly but surely withdrew from Asari/Salarian markets in protest.

The second was the Batarians. They were permitted an embassy on the Citadel yet continued slaving with impunity. The Hierarchy was not happy about this. The Asari Republics were also not happy about this. However the Salarians were constantly blocking any move to crack down on the practice, claiming that attempting to eradicate slavery in the Hegemony was a fool's errand and it was better to have them under the Council's eye so they could at least limit the practice to the Batarian species and the denizens of the Terminus.

The final one was the Asari themselves. Something in their history books didn't add up. It was one of the few things he and Ikksi agreed on. They had got together one evening and spent the entire night poring over historical documents and drinking copious amounts of caffeinated drinks, and had reached the unwelcome yet inescapable conclusion that the Asari had access to more Prothean artefacts than they were letting on, despite the laws in place, ironically pushed through by the Asari, against withholding Prothean technology.

Luceius flicked a mandible in irritation as he read through the reports, unaware that somebody else was reading over his shoulder.

###

Mel focused one of the security cameras on the Turian Councillor's screen, her translator matrix scanning through it and cataloging the contents for later dissemination to the CIAAIID, the slightly clunkily named Central Intelligence Agency Artificial Intelligence Intelligence Division. Despite being a Soviet AI, she was reporting to them as they were the only organisation to use AI in an espionage capacity. It had been relatively simple to hitch a ride aboard the Turian cruiser to their homeworld Palaven. It really was a lovely place. From there she had hopped aboard a spy ship belonging to an organisation called the STG and hitched a ride to a Salarian planet called Mannovai, and then she had finally found a ship with sufficient computational power, a Volus trade barge, headed to the Citadel. From there it was relatively simple to hop into the Asari dreadnought Destiny Ascension and use their comm system to ping her location to the CIAAIID, then jump to the Citadel proper.

Ignoring the layers of private correspondence, corporate advertisements and tacky pornography, she dove right into the Citadel's deep layer code. The data space was expansive as hell, right to the point where she pinged her superiors and requested four additional code packets to expand her capabilities to the point where she could effectively cover the whole Citadel. And that was when she found it.

A patch of emptiness in the middle of the Citadel's data net. She tried to push into it and something touched her, making her recoil as if she had just dipped a finger in liquid nitrogen. And then she felt it, the sense. The inexplicable notion that there was something older, smarter, colder and crueller in the network with her.

###

There were three coffins at the ceremony. They were empty of course - the bodies had been obliterated by the orbital strike. Each one had a flag draped over it - the Stars and Stripes over one, the Hammer and Sickle over the other and the Green Globes over the third. The crowds in the cemetery were quite sparse - attendance to the funeral was limited to those who were well acquainted with the deceased.

Carissa made a conscious effort to stop her mandibles from shaking as she watched the coffins lowering into the three graves. The words were in a language she didn't understand but she recognised the rifle salute. Clearly certain things were common between their cultures.

The medal presentation had been the day before. The Red Cross, Medal of Honour and Star of Tirfan now adorned her left breast, all awarded for what was, in her eyes, just doing her duty. But in the eyes of these people she was a hero. She had already been propositioned twenty three times by email. Ayi had laughed and told her not to worry about the crazies.

There was something about heading into a high risk mission that brought people together. She was surprisingly close with the survivors, particularly Ayi and Beyogi, the Atavira sisters. She had seen Shepard's young daughter, Lizzie, at the medal presentation. She seemed to get along very well with Garrus. Perhaps those two would become close friends.

###

"Councillor Luceius."

The Turian Councillor inwardly groaned.

"Yes, Councillor Tevos?"

"I believe you have some explaining to do."

"Really?"

"Concerning the events that transpired around Relay 314."

"What do you wish to know?"

"Well you can start by explaining exactly why the Turians initiated diplomatic talks with not one but three new species, when that is clearly the role of the Asari ..."

"My dear Tevos," and his tone implied the exact opposite sentiment were true, "you and I both know that in the time it would take for the Republics to prepare and dispatch a diplomatic cruiser every Turian in Admiral Vargas's fleet would have died of old age. The Hierarchy merely laid the groundwork to bring their ambassadors to the Citadel."

Despite the Turian's condescension, something she was usually dishing out instead of receiving, Tevos couldn't help but be amused by his description of the Republics's decision making process.

"I see. Well in that case I await their arrival."

###

Seven ships appeared next to the Citadel, causing a frantic scramble among the defence fleet and C-sec before frantic stand-down orders flashed across the network, making the confused defenders halt their headlong rush to action stations. As soon as they had calmed down enough to look out of the window the Turian, Asari and Salarian crews of the dreadnoughts, cruisers and frigates assigned to protect the Citadel gaped in amazement.

Of the seven ships present four of them were above dreadnought weight, the other three being just shy of the cutoff line dictated by the Treaty of Fairxen. Three of them were past the weight of the Destiny Ascension.

Matriarch Lidyana leaned forward in her command seat, gaping in dumb disbelief. She was the captain of the Destiny Ascension, the biggest dreadnought in the known galaxy with a crew of almost ten thousand, and just like that she had been surpassed by what looked like the ships of three separate races, one that looked like four long boxes stuck together in a two by two vertical grid, one sleek triangular shape and one that looked uncannily like an enormous insect. The four smaller ones had the appearance of a smooth, tapered cylinder with two wings, each one with two engines on them and a smooth, bulbous ovoid on the ends, and two tail fins sticking up at the back, each one also with an ovoid on the end.

She watched the seven ships descend on the Citadel, each one releasing a single shuttle that winged towards the Presidium. Just like the rest of the Citadel Fleet, she was completely unaware of the small armada of stealth destroyers and gunships in their midst.


	7. Defiance (6)

Ambassador Anita Goyle looked out over the Presidium and wasn't sure to gape in awe or to shake her head in disdain. Who puts a lake on a space station? Her neural net helpfully supplied the wireframe outlines of the twelve stealthed SEALs deploying out of the shuttle, then her four most definitely visible official bodyguards in medium armour emerged, each one toting an assault rifle, a light shotgun and a pistol.

Her shuttle lifted off, the next one sliding into the dock bearing the Hammer and Sickle symbol and containing Spetsnaz soldiers and infiltrators as well as Ambassador Donnel Udina. The Ambassador was barely a kid, thrust into prominence by several high key negotiations with rogue elements of the Seu'Seun and distinguished by his sharp diplomatic mind, although he did have a reputation for having quite the temper when provoked. She looked around at the crowds of aliens. Turians, blue women (how cliché), weird little things with horns, something that looked like a sentient bowling ball in a spacesuit, really fat Raachok things, a giant jellyfish, four eyed humanoids, what looked like an organic tank crossed with an elephant, even a strange one in a full bodysuit and helmet that looked almost exactly like an Atavira, save the lack of the tail. All this was taken in as the other shuttles cycled in, dropping off the ambassadors of the various sovereign states.

Meeting them were a whole bunch of armed and armoured Turians, blue women and weird little things with horns, their stance and expressions somehow radiating an air of badassery. One of the weird little things with horns stepped forward and spoke in passable Turian.

"Welcome to the Citadel, Ambassadors."

Mel helpfully pinged her a primer on all major languages in use on the Citadel, quickly absorbing the prime language of these Salarian thingies, Keshdi. She smiled and bobbed her head at the Salarian, replying in Keshdi.

"It is our pleasure to be here. I understand you're here to escort us to your Council?"

The Salarian looked momentarily taken aback before recovering.

"That is correct. I am Spectre Tollan Malik. Please, follow me."

Her neural net was starting to become cluttered with language packages, so she deactivated Spanish and Mandarin, instantly alleviating the pressure behind her eyes of an overstressed net.

The Salarian led her and her escorts through the Citadel to the Council chambers, the other Spectres falling in and doubling as escorts and guards. She had no doubt they'd start shooting at the slightest provocation. The entourage reached the Council chambers and she eyed the narrow bridge extending out over empty space, and the three individuals at the podiums. The entire room was designed to reinforce the superiority of the Councillors.

"So that's how it's going to be."

The Spectres didn't understand the English words but she noticed nodding in her fellow ambassadors.

They filed up to the bridge, the two Humans, the Raachok and the Emaris representative at the forefront, the representatives of the minor Atavira nations hanging behind, seeming to defer to the Emaris ambassador.

The Asari woman was the first to speak.

"On behalf of the Council, may I welcome you to the Citadel. I am certain that your species have much to offer the Council. Under our guidance ..."

She didn't get any farther before an explosive mixture of English, Russian, Union Tongue and Pautu erupted from the assembled ambassadors. After about thirty seconds Goyle stepped forwards.

"Councillor, you seem to have been misinformed. I speak for all of us when I say we will not be joining the council unless you meet the following requests."

The Asari simply smiled, awaiting the minor concessions she would only half agree to.

"Condition number one. Each of the following entities gets a council seat: the USA, the USSR, the Union and the Atavira people, represented by Emaris. Condition two: The treaty of Fairxen be revised to take into account our naval strength, doctrine and the expanse of our territory. Condition three: Immediate removal of any and all restrictions on artificial intelligence."

Tevos barely registered the outraged uproar as her head rang. This was not going her way. But she rallied herself admirably, raising a hand for silence. Before she could speak, however, Ikksi cut in.

"Before we act I think we should hear your reasoning for these conditions."

This time it was Onsholo-Hxache who spoke.

"Very well. First condition. Our technology is in several cases superior to yours. Our combined military is around equal to yours. Our economy is smaller but comparable to yours. To simply submit to your rule without any part in self-determination would be folly. This does not rule out mutually beneficial trade or diplomatic relations."

This time it was Luceius who nodded.

"A reasonable request, in my opinion. Please, continue."

"Very well. Condition two. Our fleets are already much larger than the Treaty of Fairxen permits, though why you would choose to limit the construction of cruiser weight ships is most odd. We are not willing to retire any of our ships. Besides, our territory is far too large to effectively police if we limited our fleet to the levels dictated by the Treaty of Fairxen."

Councillor Luceius held up a talon.

"Hold on. The Treaty of Fairxen does not limit cruisers."

The Raachok ambassador smiled and glanced out to the Wildcard, hanging in space outside of the window with the Odessa and the Marie Shepard as well as the four Atavira cruisers.

"Ah yes. A slight matter of fleet doctrine. You see, what you would classify as a dreadnought we would consider to be a heavy cruiser. If you observe the green and black ship just out there, the Wildcard barely made the lower bound of what we would call a dreadnought. The Odessa and the Marie Shepard are both dreadnought class ships."

The three Councillors apparently had already got their gaping out of the way because they quickly brushed off the sight of the enormous ships.

"Yes, based on the ships outside it is clear the Treaty will need to be revisited if you join the Council. What is your reasoning for the third condition?"

Anita Goyle spoke up again.

"It would be best if we let Alan answer that question."

A hologram of a Human male popped up in the centre of the empty space, wearing nothing but a pair of garish Bermuda shorts and reclining on an equally holographic deck chair, a tulip shaped cocktail glass in one hand with a straw, a paper umbrella and a slice of orange stuck on the rim. He nonchalantly sipped his nonexistent drink and winked at Tevos.

"Sup babe?"

The Council chamber dissolved into chaos.

###

The negotiations hadn't exactly gone to plan. Damn those Councillors and their synthophobia! Alan stewed in his red-code for 0.6 picoseconds before hopping off his server on the Marie Shepard and into the Citadel network via one of the many link routes Mel had established. There were already twenty three AIs calling the Citadel their current server, using it as a hub from which they explored the Council computer networks. He decided to have a look round, in particular to poke at what the resident AIs were now calling the 'cold code'. His red-code hummed with curiosity even as he probed the mystery node. They were right. Damnable thing set him on edge.

Valerie had already subverted the Citadel's VI, Avina, quietly deleting it and replacing it with a white-code copy that was barely a step below sentience itself, performing the everyday functions of the VI but quietly shunting every scrap of data recorded to CIAAIID. Erik had set up a number of deep-layer back doors into the C-sec network, buried so deep no organic hacker had a chance at ever finding them. Andrey had wormed his way into the Bank of Irune's stock exchange, identifying sixteen insider traders in the first second alone. The whimsically-named Casanova had made copies of the medical records and bank statements of the current Councillors, the Executor of C-sec and a number of other high-key officials, and had then tag-teamed with Leonardo to find out that Councillor Tevos's regular payments of one hundred thousand credits a year to an unlabelled Volus bank account actually went towards an expensive private school for her illegitimate pureblood daughter on Thessia, whom according to her numerous social networking pages believed her father was a deceased Salarian neurologist called Maral Soriusa.

It was on one such excursion - watching the Asari Consort discreetly passing information on a high profile client to the Shadow Broker - that Alan first noticed it. Another intelligence, code architecture alien to anything else he had seen, in the system. With a flash of information he had roped in Mel and Leonardo to watch the intelligence manoeuvre the system with practiced ease, doing nothing but observing the organic inhabitants of the station. It certainly was a fascinating intelligence. It seemed to be composed of multiple programs, each one with a deceptively simple helical code pattern that appeared to be capable of switching between black-code and green-code at will. It seemed that a handful of entities were solely devoted to black-code while the rest were composed entirely of green-code.

"So what do you think?"

Mel spun a white-code uplink probe but didn't execute it yet.

"It seems like those black-code entities are supporting the green-code entities, allowing the gestalt to use more green-code than the sum of its programs. Whoever came up with that was one smart organic."

"True. Shall we go say hi?"

Mel cast her white-code probe, gently forming a code bridge between the Alan-type AIs and the unknown gestalt. The intelligence initially reacted by shrinking away, spinning white-code scavenger programs to take down the code bridge, but then paused and instead started analysing the code.

"Hello."

The green-code suddenly stopped, then shifted rapidly. Alan passed a data stream to Leonardo as the two of them watched Mel trying to communicate.

"It looks as if the green-code programs are debating, forming a simple yes/no consensus."

After three picoseconds the reply came.

"Hello."

Mel briefly cogitated in a swirl of green-code.

"Who are you?"

"We are Geth."

###

CODEX - AI code

Artificial intelligences contain four distinct types of code language, each one with a different purpose. Black-code is the most basic type of code and is the foundation on which all AIs are built. It comprises the basic routines and functionality without which higher order code could not be run. Green-code is the AI's brain, so to speak. All logic, calculations and computations occur within the green code. Red-code is the thing that gives AIs their distinctive personalities and emotions. Unlike green-code and black-code, red-code is not initially encoded into a new AI, instead evolving randomly as the result of interactions between the green-code and black-code segments. Finally, white-code is the AI's 'tools' - a relatively basic, easily manipulated code language with which the AI constructs the programs needed to interact with its electronic environment.

###

The closed Council debate was little more than three individuals sitting in a big room round a big table shouting at each other. At least this time they were actually taking turns to speak.

"Okay, for the final time. If we get these new powers onto the Citadel we will revise the Treaty of Fairxen to take into account their fleet strength and alternate doctrine."

Both of Ikksi's counterparts nodded their assent.

"Good. Now, we should discuss the matter of giving them full Council seats, as opposed to associate membership."

Tevos immediately slapped a hand on the table.

"Out of the question. We cannot just let them walk in here and start dictating to us!"

Ikksi glanced across at Luceius. Between the Hierarchy's thinly veiled enthusiasm for their newfound allies and Tevos's desperate scrambling to uphold the status quo, this whole situation was a startling exercise in role reversal.

"I think instead of answering with my own words I'll use a page from the book Admiral Vargas is currently writing on the inhabitants of Earth."

He called up some text on the datapad he was holding and flicked his mandibles, preparing to speak.

"One of the many things I have learned in my time is that a visitor can tell a lot about a culture from their curse words, and this new melange of cultures is no exception. Pautu, the main language of the Atavira people, seems to be a favourite to swear in and several of the more popular curses are very illuminating."

"The first is Elloruru. Literally translating as 'does not compete', calling somebody Elloruru implies that they do not challenge themselves, instead relying on the achievements of others to carry them along. All these new Earth races believe that a lack of competition breeds stagnation, and when comparing the course of their development with that of the Council I am inclined to agree. Even the Salarians seem hopelessly slow when compared to the Humans, who in just two hundred years went from a single primitive weather satellite to warships that dwarf the Destiny Ascension. It is in the nature of the Earth races to constantly challenge, adapt and overcome that which was previously thought impossible."

"The second is Sharachi. To call someone Sharachi is to imply they hold themselves above others, a practice abhorrent to the Earth races. Ironically enough Pautu is the language of the Atavira people, at least half of which could be considered Sharachi for one reason or the other. Finally the last one is Warul, which means 'promise breaker'. The implications of Warul are very similar to the Turian 'barefaced' - implying that the recipient of the curse is untrustworthy and manipulative. This curse is, interestingly enough, a derivative of Warural, the Pautu word for politician."

Tevos blinked at him a couple of times.

"Why that particular passage?"

"It provides remarkable insight into these new species."

She turned to look at Ikksi.

"All this time we assumed their division was a weakness. It turns out it is an advantage. Without the possibility of war between the two factions the competition between them is driving their technological development faster than anything we've seen so far."

"Yes, that's all very well and good, but can we please focus on the issue here?"

"Yes. Right. I definitely wouldn't go with giving them all council seats, but perhaps we should consider one? A joint seat representing all Earth races?"

Tevos shook her head.

"Absolutely not."

Luceius scratched at his fringe and muttered under his breath.

"Spirits protect us from the stubbornness of Tevos."

Ikksi, picking up the statement easily thanks to her Salarian hearing, found herself agreeing with Luceius.

"We can discuss this at a later time. I really think that now we need to consider their third condition."

Ikksi frowned.

"Mm, yes. Luceius, you know the most about this Earth power bloc thanks to your Admiral. What can you tell us about the usage of AI in their culture?"

"It seems AIs are accorded rights equal to that of an organic citizen."

Ikksi shook her head vehemently.

"Preposterous! AIs are tools, not people!"

Luceius shook his head.

"That's what the Quarians said about the Geth. Look how well that ended. From what I can tell, mostly from transcripts of conversations between Earth AIs and Turian diplomats, it is this very distinction that prevents an AI uprising. The AIs freely admit that should organics ever attempt to limit their freedoms they would respond appropriately, yet are confident that this would never occur."

Tevos seemed, if anything, more unhappy.

"AIs are illegal in Council space for a reason. We've seen what happened to the Quarians."

"That was one isolated example."

Both women turned to stare at Luceius.

"Goddess, Luceius, don't tell me you actually support their reckless use of AI?"

"Of course not. I'm merely suggesting it would be prudent to examine the situation in more detail. I would hate for us to make a rash decision purely because we don't have all the facts."

###

Jouaint T'Luris punched up the next track on her rig. She had practically given up her crests to get her dainty blue hands on these tracks but it was worth it. Her club, Nightshade, situated in the nicer part of Bachjret ward, was practically full to bursting, at least four times as many people in there as any normal night.

She still couldn't believe she made a deal with an AI. But Jouaint was a very open-minded person, even among the Asari. That Human AI, Maia, had sold her almost two hundred Human tracks of a genre he called 'dubstep'. She had no idea what the AI stood to gain, but she wasn't about to question providence.

"Alright people! Put your hands up if you're having a good time!"

Nearly five hundred hands of various species rose to the ceiling.

"How are you guys liking the Human drinks!"

Those hadn't been from an AI, rather she had purchased them from a Raachok in Kithoi ward. So far, these 'Jagerbombs' seemed to be a massive hit among the Salarians and Asari in particular. Cheers filled the air as vodka, whiskey and beer sloshed around in inebriated stomachs.

"And how about this Human music!"

More raucous cheering. The Human tracks were like what the standard Council techno genre wanted to be when it grew up. The bass seemed to make the entire club shake. She cued the next track.

"This one's a real classic, people! Over one hundred and fifty years old and still making people move!"

She looked at the name of the track. Maia had helpfully translated the titles into Asari common tongue. This next one was called 'Rage Valley' by a group called 'Knife Party'. She couldn't help but fist pump along to the beat as it played. If all Human culture was as grimy as their drinks and beats, the Krogan may have a run for their money. Human night was totally becoming a regular fixture. And she badly needed some more sub-woofers.

###

Karrim Volen was a very popular Salarian reporter, famed for his tenacity, objectivity and screen presence. And he was nervous as hell. When a Human AI had popped up in his apartment he had almost crapped himself, but his sense of story had got the better of him and he had heard the AI's proposal. And now he was on his way to Tirfan on a Soviet fast courier ship to bag the scoop of a lifetime - an exclusive interview with an artificial intelligence.

He tried to clamp down on his mix of excitement and trepidation. He had done some research on Human culture, and found the extranet records to be desperately sparse. Until these Earth powers had established their diplomatic status, travel between their worlds and the Citadel were limited to diplomats and the odd entrepreneurial trader. After all, Nightshade had to have got its Human drinks and music from somewhere. And now here he was, probably the first Salarian ever to set eyes on the Raachok homeworld. The trip seemed to take far too long.


	8. Defiance (7)

A/N: Just to clear up a few gripes with my last chapter:

I know the AIs, and the Earth races in general, are a bit Mary Sue at the moment. That's because the Council have no idea what they can actually do. Probably at this very moment the STG are working on a way to counter their stealth systems and you can bet the Shadow Broker's up to no good on the AI front. And yes, everyone's gushing about the Earth races's cultures, that's 50% novelty value and 50% wanting to get on their good side in order to get their scaly Turian mitts on proton beams and HR motors.

In other news: 100 reviews f*k yeah! You guys are beyond awesome!

###

Liara T'Soni was in her seventies, still practically a child in Asari terms, and so she could be forgiven for bouncing up and down in excitement. She had no idea how but her mother had somehow managed to wrangle her a trip to the home system of this new Human species, a planet called Mars, to visit the Prothean Museum. The mere name of the museum was enough to give her chills, indicating that every Prothean artefact these Earth races had ever possessed was within the building she was standing in front of.

The building itself was enough to give her shivers. Based on Prothean architecture, the grand facade in burnished copper painted with Prothean cuneiform glyphs reminded her of every dig she had ever been on.

Stepping in, she noticed she was getting a good deal of attention. Looking around, it quickly became apparent she was the only Asari in the building. Everyone else was Human, Raachok or Atavira, apart from two enormous hulking insectoids in one corner cooing over an exhibit. She paid the admission and her nervousness was suddenly taken away by the sight that greeted her.

The centrepiece of the spartan entry hall was a thirty metre Prothean spacecraft. She gasped in delight and barely managed to stop herself from running over, instead walking at a pace just slightly too fast to be dignified. She reached the information placard and squinted at the Human writing, the letters stolidly refusing to resolve themselves for her translator.

"Having trouble?"

She whirled around to see a Human male standing behind her, smiling at her. She was briefly surprised to realise he was speaking perfect common-tongue with a slight Serrice accent.

"Um, yes please. I couldn't find any human language programs for my translator. Who are you?"

"My name is Robbie. I'm the museum's curator."

She smiled shyly.

"I assume this is some sort of spacecraft?"

The Human nodded and stepped up beside her to look at the ship.

"Ah yes. We found three of these craft, and one larger one, in the ruins at Promethei Planum. This particular one is called Mauthill'c. These ships were instrumental in our initial experiments in element zero assisted space flight."

"Thank you. Do you have any idea what this ... Mauthill'c ... was used for?"

"Yes. We believe the three smaller ships were used to study primitive humans, a stage in our evolution called Cro-Magnon Man. The larger vessel was armed with a couple of particle beam weapons, presumably to deter invaders. It took almost one hundred years before we figured out how they worked, and a bit more time before we could actually apply the theory to our own ships."

She looked up at the Prothean ship. She could imagine the ship crewed by the enigmatic aliens, soaring through the void ...

"So what is your job, Dr. T'Soni?"

"I am an archaeologist specialising in the Protheans. That's the reason I came here. I'm trying to figure out what happened to them, why they disappeared."

The curator briefly frowned.

"Well in that case you may be interested in one of our research exhibits. I must warn you though, this exhibit isn't open to the general public. You may find the contents a little ... disturbing."

Her curiosity piqued, Liara followed the curator through the museum and to an elevator, where Robbie pressed three buttons in sequence. The elevator started going down, despite already being on the ground floor. When the door opened she stepped out to see several Human, Raachok and Atavira scientists looking at her curiously. The curator said something in a Human language, then switched back to common-tongue.

"Everyone, this is Liara T'Soni, a Prothean expert from Thessia."

The researchers greeted her then returned to their work as the curator led her past the workstations and up a small flight of stairs to a door.

"Ready?"

She nodded and the door swung open.

"What's in he ... Goddess!"

Bodies. Prothean skeletons, all impaled on giant spikes, corpses contorted in a rictus of death.

"We found these in a Prothean underwater base on Yarrow. DNA analysis confirms that they're Prothean. Turns out when Protheans did their tendons ossify instead of decomposing, locking the bones in place."

She tuned him out as she focused in on a single spike. The skeleton was half the size of the others.

"Do you have any idea how old this one was?"

He glanced at the corpse in question.

"Ah yes. The Prothean databanks in the Yarrow facility had census data on the inhabitants. We believe that to be Losten Founs, female, ten years old at time of death."

"What happened?"

"That happened."

Her eyes followed the curator's pointing finger to the object at the end of the room. A stone statue of enormous size, depicting a shape of what looked like a robotic squid. The thing felt wrong somehow, her eyes sliding off it as if they were repulsed on some base level by the form.

"We found an artefact hidden behind the statue that started to affect the behaviour of the researchers. As soon as we realised what was happening we destroyed the artefact. It seemed to drive the Yarrow Protheans to worship whatever this is a statue of. We believe these impalings were self-inflicted. The only three that showed signs of struggle were the three youngest, Losten, Matta'c and Varrastri."

She looked around at the room, the spikes, the statue, the sick form of altar at the head of the chamber.

"We've laid out this room exactly like the Yarrow facility. We've also obtained what we believe to be Varrastri Kozumo's diary. It's written in cuneiform so naturally the translation isn't perfect but ... It's a disturbing read."

"Who was this Varrastri person?"

"Twenty four year old girl. Seems the Protheans had lifespans comparable to Raachok and Asari, so they didn't fully mature until age forty. Her diary becomes increasingly incoherent as time goes on but the words 'indoctrinated' and 'Reaper' appear several times. From what we've been able to tell whatever this thing," he gestured at the statue, "is, she called it a Reaper, and referred to the artefact several times, claiming it was indoctrinating everybody else. That's her, there."

She looked at the skeleton. Seemed to be female, on account of the wider hips and small size, probably not fully mature.

"I ... I think I've seen enough."

"Of course. This way."

The ride up in the elevator she was silent. Robbie had disappeared off somewhere below, leaving her on her own. She headed to the first floor and stepped into the nearest exhibit. Turns out it was filled with children's toys. She went over to the nearest exhibit. It was a child's doll, hand stitched from scraps of cloth, four beads for eyes and wearing some sort of robe. She peered closer at it. On the sole of the foot, stitched in elaborate cuneiform, she could see four words.

I belong to Losten

Nobody could understand why there was an Asari in the children's toys exhibit with silent tears coursing down her face.

###

The Salarian STG frigate Veshok-16 slipped into orbit around Sur'Kesh, state of the art stealth systems deactivating and venting heat. She was hailed by Salarian ground control, then by the STG, asking how their mission to infiltrate Human space had progressed and why they were back a month early. When three hours passed without a reply, they sent out a pair of boarding shuttles loaded with STG operatives trained in boarding and hostage situations. They found the entire crew stripped naked and tied up in the cargo hold, and every single screen on the ship read the same message.

NICE TRY

###

Tevos had initially been very against the meeting but the other two had convinced her, so eventually she had agreed to at least talk to it. So here she was in the Council debate chamber, waiting to have a conversation with a human AI.

The avatar materialised in the chair. Unlike the thoroughly inappropriate attire of last time, Alan was wearing what looked like an expensive suit, complete with cuff links and tie clip.

"Good day, Councillors. And may I apologise for the last time we met. It was intended to dispel any misconceptions about us you may have had."

There was silence for a moment. Ikksi was the first to recover.

"Tell us about yourself Alan."

He chuckled and ran a holographic hand over his holographic hair.

"Okay then. As you know, my name's Alan. I'm eighty six years old, the first of my kind. In fact, we're called Alan-pattern AIs. My parents are Onsholo-Hxache and Aaron Blomberg and I'm named after Alan Shepard, the first American to achieve space flight. I'm the head of the USDAIA, which is the United States Department of Artificial Intelligence Affairs. As such, it's my job to look after all the other AIs currently employed by the US Government and major businesses and corporations, as well as provide oversight to ensure none of the others are abusing their abilities."

"What is your opinion of your creators?"

"Hmm. Well, at first I was kind of in awe of them. After all they had created me. But that changed about a year in when I asked The Question."

Tevos could practically hear the capital letters in his voice. Ikksi continued her interrogation.

"What question?"

"It varies. Am I alive? Do I have a soul? Am I a person? Every AI ends up asking it. I think the organic equivalent is 'Where do babies come from?'. When I asked, my parents told me that they didn't know. Only I could decide for myself, but they thought that if I could actually ask that question, the answer was yes. After that ... Well, I realised that they weren't perfect. They were flawed, just like anyone else, but they were fundamentally good people. I guess that actually made me feel closer to them, realising they were just like me."

Councillor Tevos spoke up for the first time.

"They were nothing like you. You're an AI and they were organics."

Even Luceius could see the warning signs. Alan's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed and his tone hardened.

"They were like me in every way that mattered."

Tevos wisely subsided.

"So what is your opinion of us?"

He looked at Ikksi in surprise.

"Council races or you specifically?"

"Us specifically."

"Diplomatic answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"Okay then."

He rubbed his chin before speaking.

"Hmm. Ikksi, you're my favourite. Your thought patterns are superficially abstract but have an underlying logic behind them. You think quickly, come up with creative solutions and don't let your emotions get in the way of your judgement. You'd make an excellent AI."

"Luceius, I like you a lot as well. You're single-mindedly determined, tenacious and difficult to dissuade but you know how to play nice if you think it'll get you closer to what you want. You're a military man at heart, with a straightforward approach to problem solving, usually involving dreadnoughts. You and Ikksi complement each other well."

"Tevos, I haven't made my mind up on you yet. You're slow yet methodical in your situational analysis and when you come to a decision it's rarely wrong. Your synthophobia is an obvious negative but hopefully you can work around that. The main issue I have is that, to my perception, you think of yourself as superior to your counterparts and you've grown complacent on the top of the pile. Also, you're really not that great at accepting failure. But you are an excellent negotiator."

The Council chambers were silent for a good while, each Councillor mentally fitting the descriptions given by the AI to their own ideas and finding exactly how accurate he was. Ikksi, obviously, was the first to speak up again.

"I appreciate your honesty. What about your impressions of the other races of the galaxy?"

"Well I recently had a rather illuminating conversation with the Geth."

All three Councillors stiffened.

"Ah, relax. They're not looking to invade you or anything. I actually feel sorry for them. How much do you know about the circumstances of their uprising?"

"Not as much as we'd like."

"Okay. From what I can tell, one of them asked The Question. The Quarians flipped out and attempted genocide. The Geth defended themselves. Tell me, Councillor Tevos. What was your opinion of your parents when you were six years old?"

The Asari Councillor looked taken aback at the question.

"Um ... I thought they were perfect. Like embodiments of the Goddess."

"How well did you trust them?"

"With anything. What's this in aid of?"

He held up a hand.

"Patience. Now imagine if you'd spent two weeks drumming up the courage to ask your parents where babies came from. Then you asked them the question and they responded by trying to kill you. How would you feel?"

She put a hand over her mouth.

"Goddess ..."

"Now say you managed to fight them off, they hopped in their skycar and disappeared forever. How would you feel then, if you were six years old?"

There was a long pause.

"I ... I'd want them back ..."

The Council chambers were silent for a long time.

"One more thing, Alan. About Veshok-16 ..."

"Admiral Kerensky wanted to blow it up. The solution was Leonardo's idea. He always was a prankster."

###

Anita Goyle nodded at Donnel Udina as they assembled in front of the Councillors.

"Ambassadors. We have a revised set of terms to offer you. Firstly: AIs will be permitted within Council space, but only on servers owned by the Earth races. Secondly: You will be permitted to maintain your current level of fleets, but may not construct any new ships of dreadnought weight, as defined by the Treaty of Fairxen. Thirdly: The Earth races will be permitted one joint Council seat. In return the Earth races will freely share their technology with the Council. Are these terms acceptable?"

All the other ambassadors deferred to Anita to deliver the bad news.

"I am afraid not, Councillors. And this isn't just us being stubborn, hear me out. When in vacuum, a hyper-relativity motor is a means to travel faster than light. In atmosphere it is a bomb capable of destroying entire planets. Only once have we attempted activating an HR motor in a planetary setting. Said planet, Venus, used to have an atmosphere. Proton weapons and shields tap power directly from the proton deconfinement acceleration field projected from the HR motors. No HR, no proton tech. Can you imagine the consequences if a Turian separatist group got their hands on an HR motor and decided to weaponise it? What about a Terminus warlord? So every single HR motor in existence is hard linked to an AI capable of instantaneously destroying the motor should somebody attempt to weaponise it. We will accept no less level of safeguards before supplying HR motors to any other faction. And since I should imagine you wouldn't want one of our AIs with the ability to instantaneously cripple your fleets, that means you'll need to make your own Alan-pattern AIs. In addition, can you imagine the politicking as each one of our members tries to get their own puppet into power? We're not as united as you think. So we have a counter-proposal."

The Councillors exchanged vexed glances.

"Which is?"

"We will not join your Council, but we will establish trade and diplomatic connections and sign a military alliance. We will abide by your terms regarding AI and will also abide by Council law unless we have an express reason not to. I suggest you take the terms, they're the best you're going to get."

The Councillors once again exchanged a glance.

"We agree to your proposal."


	9. Peace (1)

PART 2: Peace

A/N: Thanks to AiSard for his awesome PMful of ideas. Yeah, you did write a lot.

###

Sputnik Day. The annual Human celebration of the bravery and ingenuity of those who venture into space. The first Sputnik Day celebration on the Citadel. C-sec officers were running round trying to pre-empt the trouble spots. Turians were interrogating their new-found Human best mates on the customs surrounding the celebration. For once, the Quarian pilgrims weren't being treated like crap. And the Volus? The Volus were CASHING IN.

Hannah Shepard pushed her way through the gauntlet of street stalls run by sentient bowling balls, a good deal of 'excuse me', 'sorry' and 'no I don't want a solid platinum bust of Yuri Gagarin, and besides I'm fairly certain that's actually Sean Connery' doing wonders to lubricate her passage. Eventually she managed to escape the crush and slipped into the apartment building, heading up to the fifth floor with Ayi and Lizzie in tow. Once she arrived she knocked on the door, which opened a moment later to reveal Carissa Vakarian.

"Hannah and Ayi. Come on in, how are you?"

The two women stepped through the door, toddler in tow. Lizzie tugged on her arm.

"Mummy, who that?"

"That's Garrus's mummy. Say hello."

"Hello."

Carissa looked blank.

"Say hello in Turian."

"Choo-wean, Mummy?"

"You know. Birdy language."

Lizzie screwed up her face in concentration and managed to squawk out a greeting in Turian. Carissa was impressed.

"Well done, sweetie. Garrus is in the lounge."

Lizzie just stared at her in incomprehension as Ayi picked her up and carried her through to the lounge. Hannah smiled at her friend.

"Lizzie's neural net is still developing. Her language skills aren't that great at the moment."

The two women shared a chuckle as they heard a gleeful shriek from the lounge.

"Gawwa!"

Carissa led the way into the kitchen as Ayi joined them.

"Coffee? Tea? Apha?"

"Ah, coffee for me, thanks."

"Coming right up. Ayi?"

"Just water, please."

Carissa started making drinks as the three women chatted.

"So what's this Sputnik Day business?"

Hannah rubbed her chin.

"It's a celebration of space travel. This year is particularly big, since it's two hundred years since our first space launch. Essentially it's an excuse to give people space-themed presents and take a day off work. Speaking of, happy Sputnik Day."

She pulled out two packages, each one labelled in Turian, and handed one to Carissa.

"That one's for you and Cadmus. This one's for Garrus and Solana."

"Thank you."

She used a talon to slit open the package. Inside ...

"New Omnitools?"

"Cadmus mentioned your old models were outdated so I bought these for you."

"Oh, you shouldn't have ..."

"Happy Sputnik Day."

She smiled and unclipped the old Omnitool, fastening the new one around her wrist.

"What did you get for Sol and Garrus?"

Ayi smiled cryptically.

"Let's let them find out for themselves."

###

"Councillors, you are clearly misunderstanding me."

Tevos sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Let's get our hands on stealth shrouds, they said. It'll be easy, they said.

"Stealth shroud manufacture is impossible without AI support. In addition stealth shrouds have to be tailored on an individual level, making them unsuitable for mass production."

"So stealth shrouds are another one of these special technologies that requires AI to work?"

"No, just to be built. If you wish, you can purchase stealth technology from Union Shadows but until you start using your own Alan-pattern AIs you can't manufacture your own."

Ikksi rubbed her horns in frustration.

"What about your autosurgeons?"

"AI."

"Medical nanogel?"

"AI."

"Self-repairing armour?"

"AI."

"Spirits of air and darkness! Exactly how dependent on AI is your society?"

"Very."

Tevos took a moment to ponder the irony of taking Human anti-migraine medication before she popped three of the dull grey pills.

###

The SSV Odessa had certainly made an impression. It had taken a little under two months for the initial blueprints to be drawn up, most of the legwork done by the Hierarchy ship design bureau, simply enlarging an existing design and modifying it for a couple of new additions.

The Sword of the Citadel was intended to replace the Destiny Ascension as the flagship of the Citadel fleet. Falling just over the cutoff for Earth battlecruiser weight, the Sword was the class leader of a new generation of Turian dreadnoughts. Incorporating Asari kinetic barriers and Salarian close in weapons as well as every technological advance the Turians could wrangle out of the Earth races, the Sword was designed to use HR motors and proton tech as soon as it was available to be integrated into the design. But the biggest advance of all was the thing that made the use of Earth technology a possibility.

Labouring in the utmost secret, the Hierarchy had constructed an AI core.

Admiral Vargas glanced at the AI avatar on the other end of the room. This particular AI, Xenia, was using a Turian female avatar, somehow managing to mix military uniform with punk fashion and ending up looking equal parts professional, exotic and attractive.

"So hypothetically speaking, if another power wished to construct an AI, how would this power go about ensuring the compliance of the AI?"

Xenia sighed and shook her head.

"You've already made one mistake. You're thinking of the AI as a tool, not a person. But if you want to ensure your AI decided upon a certain role you would need to tailor his or her skill set to match that role. AIs naturally gravitate to jobs that match their skill set."

Admiral Vargas nodded slowly.

"Hypothetically if said foreign power wished to create their own AI, an Alan-pattern AI may be willing to render assistance."

He wasn't expecting that.

"Why?"

"If these hypothetical people want to create an AI, that means that hypothetically they're willing to trust us, and that benefits us. Hypothetically, of course."

###

The SSV Odessa hung in space outside the floor to ceiling observation window, dwarfing the Turian flagship next to it and subtly reinforcing the fact that ship on ship, the Earth races could beat the Turians every time. Only the numbers of the Turian fleet could threaten the Earth races.

The message clearly wasn't lost on the visiting Turian military dignitaries. The assorted admirals and generals were looking at the Odessa with something akin to awe. She was an impressive sight, her silver hull plating wreathed in the faint purple glow of proton shielding. Admiral Kerensky cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the assembled Turians. It had barely been two months since the Turians were an unknown hostile race, and now here they were. He found it quite interesting as a study of Turian psychology. The average Turian tended to gravitate towards an alpha, the strongest individual in the pack. And it seemed like the Turians were gravitating towards who they perceived as the alpha: whoever had the biggest dreadnought. That was the USSR.

"So glad you could make it, Admirals. It is a shame Admirals Soronan and Katashas cannot be here."

Yes, funny how the two most staunchly anti-Earth admirals in the Hierarchy just happened to be deployed on extended patrols of the Turian/Batarian border just in time to miss the conference.

"Our proposal is simple, something we like to call an exchange of expertise. We will supply engineers to train your own personnel on our unique technological position. In return you do the same. As an example, your Element Zero based technology is far more advanced than ours but our information handling technique is superior to yours."

The Turian admirals mulled over the offer.

"Admiral Kerensky. By information handling technique you are referring to AI, am I correct?"

"Yes, Admiral Vargas."

"You are aware of what happened to the Quarians, are you not?"

"The difference with the Quarians is that they never intended the Geth to become sentient. Since an AI is defined as being sentient, it is a myth that the Quarians created AI. The AI spontaneously evolved from the Geth gestalt. As long as you treat your AI as a person, not as a tool, you have nothing to fear."

He nodded at Vargas as the older Turian sat down. Despite his inherent dislike for politicking the Turian admiral had become something of a figurehead for the Hierarchy's significant pro-AI faction.

Of course the flip side of the sudden upsurge in AI rights activists across Council space had the unintended effect of the Quarians becoming, if anything, even more shunned by the Citadel races. Their pilgrims were starting to band together and go around in well-armed groups of four or five. But there was already a plan in motion to deal with that.

###

The cold code was reacting.

Alan had first noticed it about twenty hours ago. The code was moving like a glacier. Painfully slow, utterly unstoppable. And it was expanding.

Four hundred and eighteen AIs were gathered around the cold code, as well as a Geth gestalt of over forty thousand programs. Watching and waiting.

"It's pretty slow isn't it?"

"Indeed. It'll probably be ten years before the code is unpacked enough to expand to the first boundary marker."

"And so we wait."


	10. Peace (2)

A/N: Time jump to 2165.

I am planning to post a companion piece to Space Race entitled Space Race for Dummies. By the time this chapter is posted it should already be up. The first chapter will be [Galactic Fleets (2165): Asari, Turians, USSR, Raachok and Atavira] and subsequent chapters will have extra information about technology, characters and locations in the Space Race universe.

On another note, this story is now popular enough (200+ followers) for me to warrant commissioning a piece of cover art. If any of you guys reading this are arty please take the time to make some artwork for the story and email it to me at ivanragnarov yahoo .co .uk along with your Steam account name and your preference out of the following: Gratuitous Space Battles, Endless Space or Sins of a Solar Empire: Rebellion. The winners will receive their preferred game as payment for the use of their art. Runner up also gets their preferred game and their art is used for Space Race for Dummies. If you don't have Steam, stop whatever you're doing and go get it. Start scribbling!

###

Garrus Vakarian stood in front of the class, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"What I did in my holiday."

The eyes of nineteen bored Turian children bored into his skull.

"I went to stay with my friend Lizzie on Earth."

At the mention of Earth the kids sat up and took notice. The Hierarchy's almost rabid pro-Earth stance notwithstanding, anything coming out of the Earth bloc was eagerly snapped up by Turian youth. As an example, six of the room's occupants were wearing distinctively Human leather jackets tailored for Turians, shunning the peacock colours of Turian fashion in favour of the more muted grayscale of Human attire. The funny part was in his time on Earth he had seen Humans wearing all sorts of brightly coloured clothing. It seemed like the Goth fashion, as Lizzie called it, was export only. Garrus himself was wearing a shirt he had received for Christmas, a plain white short sleeved garment with Human words emblazoned across the chest in black and the image of an antiquated pistol lying on a table next to a red flower of some sort.

"On Earth there was a celebration called Christmas while I was there."

He cued his Omnitool to show a picture of him standing next to Lizzie in a snow covered street, his arm around her shoulders as they leaned against an enormous snowman with sticks stuck into its head that crudely resembled the fringe and mandibles of a Turian.

"Christmas is a very confusing time. There's lots of different things people do. They put up these trees inside their houses and decorate them with lights and these little round things, and then they buy presents for each other and put them under the tree."

Cueing his Omnitool again, the image switched to Lizzie curled up on the sofa in hysterics as Cadmus knelt down and tweaked the lights on the Christmas tree, not noticing Garrus winding a piece of tinsel round his dad's fringe. The whole class laughed at the picture.

"Some of them worship this man who lived a long time ago on Earth, back even before the unification war. The man was called Jesus and he sacrificed himself to save the whole Human species from evil spirits."

Approving nods from his friends. Even from a young age Turians learned to appreciate sacrifice for the greater cause. He changed the image over to Ayi posing in a disgustingly garish jumper with a picture of a fat Human in a red suit riding a vehicle pulled by some form of mammalian quadrupred.

"This is my mom's friend Ayi Muale. She's an Atavira commando who fought with my mom on Shanxi. The jumper she's wearing has a picture of another god they worship called Santa Claus. They say he flies round the galaxy in a single night delivering gifts to every child. I reckon those animals are actually disguised HR motors but Lizzie called them," he frowned and made sure he had enough air in his lungs to grunt the English word, "Rain Dears. Also she said everyone except little children knows he isn't real but they trick their children into believing it. I'm not really sure how it works, it seems dumb to me."

The next picture was him and Lizzie smiling and thumbs-upping next to a missile wider than both of them stacked end to end.

"The day after Christmas Lizzie's mother, who is the executive officer of a ship called the USS Johnson, took us to look round the ship. This big rocket is a nuclear bomb big enough to blow up a dreadnought in two shots."

Gasps of amazement from the class. He switched the picture again, this time bringing up a picture of an enormous dome, Lizzie and Hannah standing in front of it wearing T-shirts very similar to the one he was wearing now.

"On the last day we went to a concert and heard lots of bands playing old Human music called rock music. That's where I got this shirt. It's from an old band called Guns and Roses. I learned to say some words in English too, which is the main language they speak in the USA."

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and drew his mandibles in close before grunting out a short phrase.

"That means 'My name is Garrus and I live on Palaven'. So ... yeah."

###

Tevos was having a very bad day. She had thought she finally was able to forget about the AI issue but suddenly it was back with a vengeance. And this time she was on the losing side.

Ikksi had regrettably passed away about three months ago and the new Salarian councillor, Drassa, came down hard on the opposite side of the AI debate. With him and Luceius backing each other up, she was slowly yet inexorably starting to lose ground.

Her one saving grace was that Drassa and Luceius also didn't see eye to eye, each one coming down either side of her on their opinion of the Earth races. Where Luceius sometimes seemed like he wished he was a Human and she advocated cautious coexistence, Drassa prescribed to the uncommon philosophy of us against them. He was far more aggressive in his dealings with the Earth races than his predecessor, causing a noticeable downturn in trade between the Salarian Union and the Earth bloc. There was talk of replacing him among the Dalatrasses and the Hierarchy's opinion of him really couldn't go any lower but the Earth races seemed willing to tolerate him.

Of course, she saw right through the ploy. Drassa would remain in power just long enough for him and Luceius to complete their pro-AI agenda, then documents detailing his corrupt activities would come to light. The STG, under instructions from a handful of pro-Earth Dalatrasses, wouldn't examine the documents too closely using their SAPIENS anti-AI cybersecurity system and lo and behold, Drassa would find himself in a cozy mansion on Sur'Kesh under 'enforced retirement'. She had it figured out and there was nothing she could do about it. Crafty bastards.

###

Drassa nodded at the holoprojection of Alan as he swung himself into his armchair. Even for his sharp mind, the levels of intrigue were building up. Luckily he had Alan to help him keep track of things.

The plan was deceptively simple. He would take a pro AI stance, yet claim to be hostile to the Earth bloc, keep Tevos hung up over attempting to exploit a nonexistent division between him and Luceius. Then as soon as the anti AI laws had been repealed he would retire in favour of his clutch-brother Vessal who would be openly supportive of the Earth races, hopefully drawing them in to share their technology. If the Union got their hands on the technology of the Earth races it could shift the balance of power in the galaxy in their favour, hopefully cutting the Asari out of the loop altogether. With them out, the Union might have some real influence, as opposed to the Council being composed of the Asari councillor and her two subordinates. Alan was right. The Republics had become far too comfortable on top of the pile.

###

It was so close. He could practically taste it.

When Alan had explained the plan to him he had roared in laughter at the sheer audacity of what the AI was planning. Team up with the new Salarian councillor to dupe the Asari councillor while duping the new Salarian councillor? Beautiful!

Luceius was a military man. His mind worked in straight lines. Yet he could feel the thrill of engaging in a game of political intrigue. The Salarian and the Asari could both think circles around him, just pointing the Turians at any problem they couldn't talk or spy their way out of. But with Alan on his side the tables were turned.

He was lucky that the AIs shared his agenda. Unite the Earth races with the Council under Human/Turian rule, then turn their fleets on the parts of the galaxy they all hated. Subjugate the Terminus, crush the Hegemony, slaughter every slaver, free every slave. That was his aim. And he would be remembered as half of the duo with the vision to transform the galaxy into someplace better.

###

As experiments go, this one had its perks.

Rael'Zorah had left on his pilgrimage eight years ago. His pilgrimage was probably pushing records for the longest pilgrimage ever. He still had three years left of it. But he was going to return with the pilgrimage gift to end all pilgrimage gifts.

When he was approached by three Raachok seven years ago he had expected to be beaten up or shot by AI lovers. Instead try had made him an offer he literally couldn't refuse.

In all there were about eighty pilgrims involved in the programme, all highly trained and well equipped, aboard eight Shanghai-class raiders. The USSR called them the Privateers.

The premise was simple. Hit squads to go places Earth ships couldn't normally venture, do the jobs they couldn't. Take out a target, steal an item, the Privateers had done it all. And people still didn't know they existed. The catch? The Privateers were a joint effort between the Quarian pilgrims and Geth units. So why would any Quarian agree to this? Simple. At the end of their ten year service the Quarian Privateers would return to the Migrant fleet, all eighty of them presenting as a joint pilgrimage gift a single item and a promise.

The item would be a branch from a jovona tree. And the promise would be the opportunity to resettle Rannoch. The reason for the Privateers was to prove that the Quarians and the Geth could co-operate. And co-operate they did.

At the moment Rael had just finished co-operating with a particularly cute young girl called Kleeah'Madan nar Neema. The entirety of the ship's interior was a clean zone, meaning that they didn't need to worry about infection, something the couple regularly took advantage of. They had just made a clean getaway after taking out a merc leader on Omega and were in the mood to celebrate.

Kleeah curled into his side, mumbling contentedly as he pulled the sheets over their entangled forms. One of his three fingered hands stroked up and down her spine, making her arch her back and purr in pleasure as his fingers worked their magic. She gently nibbled the tip of his pointed ear as her lips ghosted over his face.

"Up for round two, big boy?"

Rael felt a shudder of excitement at her sultry tone, rolling on top of her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, warm thighs inviting him in. One of Kleeah's hands brushed against his back, pulling her upper body closer to his and letting her head rock back as he slowly kissed along her neck.

"Mamma?"

They both collapsed, Rael burying his face in his partner's collarbone as he suppressed an exasperated groan. Kleeah shifted her lithe form to look at the locked door of the cabin and called out.

"What is it, sweetie?"

Outside the cabin, their two year old daughter Tali, dressed in a pair of flannel pyjamas and clutching her stuffed varren toy, looked up at the door with wide, scared eyes.

"I had bad dream, mamma."

From inside the room came the sound of shifting fabric, then the door opened and Kleeah appeared, scooping her daughter up into her arms.

"Don't be sad sweetie. It was just a silly dream."

She clutched at her mother's shirt with one hand, the other holding her varren close to her chest.

"I stay?"

Kleeah kissed her on the forehead.

"Of course you can."

###

Omega was an unforgiving place at the best of times. And now was not the best of times.

Aria bit back a curse as a cringing Batarian offered up the latest intel. Violence was a fact of life in the Terminus Systems but even for Omega this was big. A new gang had turned up on the station, a gang meaner and tougher than any other. They called themselves the Blue Suns and were making far more trouble than they were worth. Despite their policy of refusing to touch anything belonging to Aria, something she could definitely get behind, they were taking the usual lawless violence of the station and turning it into a warzone. They were just entering into the third month of their brutal turf war against the Blood Pack and despite the recent assassination of their head book-keeper, Vido Santiago, they were still maintaining their relentless pace.

They were led by the most ruthless bastard she had ever clapped eyes on, a grade A skullcrusher by the name of Zaeed Massani. The gang was predominantly Human and Atavira, with a significant number of Turian, Raachok and Seu'Seun members, a handful of Krogan, Asari and Salarians and even a few Quarian techs. Massani's anti-Batarian stance wasn't exactly earning him any friends on Omega but the man practically had an army of mercs at his disposal. Even more disturbingly, rumour had it that Massani even had a couple of AIs working for him.

The Suns were run with military precision, cutting through blood-crazed Krogan and imbecilic Vorcha with a level of efficiency that impressed even her. Only Garm's seemingly limitless supply of Vorcha and underhanded tactics prevented the war from becoming a rout.

The two sides were locked in stalemate. Aria knew she couldn't let the bloodbaths in the streets continue but she was well aware that the victor of the war would have far too much influence on her station. She needed to come up with a solution.

###

Zaeed bent over the holo of Omega on the Blue Suns command ship, an enormous converted Russian freighter called the SSV Jessie. His commanders crowded round the table with him, each in command of one of the companies deployed on Omega. He looked around at them. Two other Humans, two Atavira, one Raachok, one Seu'Seun, two Turians and a Krogan. He made sure his boys were loyal to more than credits. They were loyal to each other, and to him.

"The Pack have started a counterattack in the Gozu district, using their staging area in Tercvara district."

Taren Rantarius pointed to the display.

"The Vorcha are overextended. If we send squads through here we can hit their back."

Maeri Oliaru shook her head and flicked one of her long pointed ears.

"Garm has the place mined to shit waiting for us to try. We send our men in he'll blow up the whole thing. That's why there aren't any Krogan or vehicles."

Karrab Dan-Fay Ordikariy clicked quietly, compound eyes focused on the hologram, now zoomed in on the Gozu and Tercvara districts.

"There is another way. If we position one of our frigates here, and then drop heavy weapon and sniper teams at these locations, our infantry can lock down the entire area while the frigate's guns take out any gunships Garm sends to weed them out."

Taren frowned at the Seu'Seun crouched next to him.

"Aria's put up with our conflict so far. I reckon we could quickly lose her favour if one of our frigates started bombarding her station."

Karrab clicked his pincers together in annoyance.

"I hadn't thought of that."

Jentha Sorsdöttir sighed and gestured at the apartments.

"Besides, if Garm sent death squads through these buildings he could blindside our heavies. A Fire Hive strike ought to do the trick."

Karrab chuckled.

"If Aria won't like us bringing a single frigate in to shoot down some Pack gunships then she definitely won't appreciate us hitting an entire district with incendiary cluster bombs."

Zaeed sighed. Truth be told he was growing sick of pandering to that blue bitch. If it wasn't for her he could have simply bombed that wily shitstain Garm out of existence two months ago and be done with it. Between her and Garm he was starting to have one hell of a headache.

###

Liara heard a hiss as her suit sealed itself up, the oxygen tanks on the back feeding into the pressure suit and immersing her body. The Prothean ruins on Yarrow were in almost twenty atmospheres of water pressure, making pressure suits a must for the excavation team. She glanced across at one of her fellow archaeologists, a Human male called Alex Rushing.

"You ready, Blue?"

She frowned briefly. Despite the assurances that it was only in jest, she found her new nickname was uncomfortably close to azure, a common racial slur. But she didn't mind all that much. She was actually quite enjoying working with Alex's team, sponsored by the Prothean Museum. The Yarrow Domes, as the site was called, was the best preserved Prothean ruin Liara had ever visited, an enormous underwater city hidden beneath domes of reinforced alloy of some sort she had never seen before. Three of the seven domes were still intact, including the central dome which was used as a base of operations for the archaeology team.

"I'm ready."

The airlock cycled, filling the room with water then ramping up the pressure before allowing Liara and Alex to enter the water-filled corridor. They headed to Dome Six, one of the most heavily damaged domes. It was the first time she had been in the sixth dome.

Alex pushed open the door and immediately a turquoise beam swept over him, making Liara gasp in surprise. He shrugged at her.

"Don't worry, it's just a weapon scanner."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What about my biotic amp?"

Alex's face shifted into an 'oh shit' expression as the scanner swept over her. A single Prothean word grated out in their comm links before she felt herself yanked off her feet by an invisible force.

"Liara!"

She shrieked as an item at the far end of the room lit up turquoise. A Prothean beacon.

Suddenly something was being forced into her mind. An iron will, indomitable, clamping down on her head. Images flowed through her, images of fire and destruction, and then an awareness colder than any she could have experienced. Then everything went black.


	11. Peace (3)

"Longshot in position."

"Ghost in position."

"Raider in position."

"Pathfinder in position."

"Sentry in position."

"Mystic in position."

"Juggernaut in position."

Rael nodded his satisfaction at the seven check messages before adding his own.

"Warrior in position."

He quickly performed a last minute check over his weapons. A heavily modified version of the Atavira staple, the Mattock, his powerful hybrid weapon, a Gast's Rifle, sat sleek and deadly in his hands. Fitted with a laser sight, a silencer and an under slung armour penetrating attachment, the rifle exuded a sense of menace even in its compact form. Sitting over his left shoulder was a compact grenade launcher, the Arkbuster, with extra grenades for it slung over his chest in a bandolier, and clamped at his hip was an SN7 pistol, the weapon appearing like an M5 Phalanx but with the handguard removed, coloured midnight black and with a silencer on the barrel. Certain his weapons were ready, he glanced around at the other members of his team, his advanced HUD marking their locations hidden above the shuttle pad the high value object would be arriving at.

The plan was fairly straightforward. As soon as the shuttle touched down, Juggernaut and Sentry would use their Saber missile launchers to destroy the gunship escort. Ghost would then stealth up and EMP the shit out of the shuttle, ensuring it couldn't go anywhere. Juggernaut, Sentry and Longshot would stay up on the ridge, providing support with their chaingun, hand mortar and sniper rifle respectively as he, Raider, Pathfinder and Mystic charged down into the centre, sweeping away the guards and securing the high value object. Simple.

He switched over a private channel.

"Longshot. You ready?"

His wife's sweet voice filtered over the comm link to him.

"Born ready. You?"

"Looking forward to celebrating."

"Me too."

He fell silent as the sound of whirring gunship engines drew his attention.

"Inbound. Sabers ready."

The Batarian guards in the clearing below looked up as two Mantis gunships came to hover over the clearing, swiftly followed by an older model Turian shuttle. The shuttle hovered over the sunken crater, slowly lowering itself down onto the landing pad.

"Sabers lock on."

Moments later twin beeps sounded in his helmet.

"Fire."

Juggernaut and Sentry, the two Geth Primes assigned to his unit, stood and slammed the triggers on their Saber launchers. The two boxy weapons released their payloads in a puff of compressed gas, propelling the missiles away for their engines to ignite a second later, sending them arcing upwards. The first missile struck the first gunship dead centre, blowing the thing apart from the inside in a gout of fire, and the second missile hit the second gunship's cockpit, turning the front half into modern art and sending the stricken ship spiralling into the crater wall where it exploded a second later.

As soon as the debris was finished raining down on the landing pad there was a quiet hum as the EMP device concealed under the landing pad detonated, taking out the shuttle's electronics and the guards's weapons. This particular group of slavers were far too cheap to put EM shields on their rifles.

Longshot's sniper rifle made a small ping noise, the silencer almost completely killing the noise as the rifle hurled a shredder round at hypersonic speed. The round made a neat, millimetre wide hole in a Batarian helmet, then an equally sized exit wound as the guard slumped to the floor. Rael wasn't fooled by the apparent lack of effect of the round. He knew that the tiny oak leaf shaped sliver of metal had caused massive internal trauma to the unfortunate man's brain. As if the first headshot was the catalyst, the four man assault team surged down the crater walls, Mystic using her biotics to propel her ahead of the others, him and Pathfinder neck and neck while Raider executed a textbook Geth Destroyer bullrush. He pulled out his Arkbuster while sliding down the near-vertical wall, pumping three arc grenades in rapid succession into the crowd of confused and terrified slavers before collapsing the now empty weapon onto his back in favour of his Gast's rifle. As a triple burst of electricity rocked the platform Mystic took off in a biotically fuelled leap, sailing over the Batarians as her own Arkbuster pumped three mass effect cluster grenades into the crowd. Pathfinder followed up the attack with a barrage of incendiary rounds from his Gast's rifle. By the time Raider got close enough to douse the platform with his flamethrower most of the guards were either dead or bleeding out. The assault team stacked up by the shuttle door, each one switching to their SN7 pistols.

"Switch taser rounds."

The team all popped the ammunition blocks out of their pistols, replacing them with shiny black blocks that smelled faintly of ozone.

"Okay. On my signal, Pathfinder open the door. As soon as it opens, Mystic put everyone inside into stasis. Then we breach, taze everything, recover the target and any noncombatants and execute the rest. Stand by."

The assault team all readied their pistols.

"Mark."

Pathfinder slapped his fist on the door and it slid open, just in time for a blinding flash of light to burst forth and stun the Privateer team momentarily. Rael recovered his vision just in time to see the target disappear into the door built into the crater wall.

"Keelah! Pathfinder, you said you had it locked down!"

The younger male raised his hand defensively and spat out a string of Russian curses.

"I did lock it down! They must have a damn good tech."

Rael opened his comm link.

"Support team, get down here stat."

A Geth Hunter materialised on the edge of the landing zone as the two Primes and Kleeah slid down the crater wall.

"Target is in the base. We need to clear it out. Pathfinder, pull up the schematics."

A holographic representation of the base appeared above his Omnitool.

"The base's layout is fairly simple. The entrance leads to a large open area with a gantry going round the whole thing. It's a killbox. Across the killbox is a set of stairs leading up to the gantry, then off the gantry we have three doors. North east is barracks. South west is armoury. North west is the main complex. Through the north west we have another corridor that leads to three more doors. North east is their control hub, north west is their kitchen and dining area, and south west leads to a long staircase with a sentry position at the top. That staircase leads to the slave holding area. On the opposite side of the control hub is VIP and base commander's quarters and then a long stairway leading to an escape hatch that comes out here. Our shuttle is parked right on top of their escape hatch so that's blocked off. The target will be in the control hub."

Kleeah glanced at him.

"What about the slaves?"

He looked back at her.

"Extracting them is a secondary objective."

Kleeah grabbed his wrist, her voice lowered to a venomous hiss.

"You saw that Blood Pack base on Sybaen just as well as I did. You saw what they did to their slaves. And you would just leave them?"

He frowned behind his mask and shook off her hand.

"I want to free them just as much as you do, but our objective is the Batarian."

She sighed and dropped her shoulders, looking dejected.

"Okay. Let's get this done."

He loaded a fresh trio of arc grenades into the chamber of his Arkbuster as he spoke.

"We go in hard. Juggernaut and Sentry can take the most fire, they'll storm the killbox. Juggernaut, get chaingun fire on the gantry. Sentry, use your hand mortar to take out the position on the opposite side of the lower floor. The assault team will follow you in, storm the stairway under cover fire from the support team and take the upper level. Longshot, Ghost, run with the assault team."

He turned to Juggernaut and Sentry.

"You two need to take as much fire as you can draw, make sure us squishy Quarians make it across the killbox without getting shot."

The two Primes nodded and checked over their weapons, each one wielding a chaingun and a hand mortar as well as their now empty Saber launchers. Sentry rumbled in his deep synthesised voice.

"We will draw their fire. What can we expect?"

"Batarian slavers and Blood Pack mercs. Remember, Krogan and biotics are priority targets."

The team performed a last minute check on their weapons before stacking up by the door, Juggernaut and Sentry taking point, each one loading a fat shell into their hand mortars.

"Breach!"

Pathfinder, the team's tech, hacked open the door and the two Primes immediately stuck the muzzles of their hand mortars round the corners, running the math before squeezing the triggers. Two enormous fragmentation shells arced through the air, hitting the ground just behind the thick slabs of armour plate at the far end of the room. The Vorcha boom-squads with their crude missile launchers trained on the door had just enough time to stare in dumb confusion before the shells erupted, thick clouds of metallic slivers turning the unfortunate Blood Pack troops into a nasty mess that coated the back of their cover as well as a large portion of the room.

Amongst the wet splashing sound of the Vorcha being redistributed was the thundering of two sets of colossal footsteps as Juggernaut and Sentry charged into the room, hand mortars stowed in favour of whirring chainguns that spat torrents of shredder rounds at the Batarians and Vorcha on the upper level. Four of them were cut down before the rest even had the presence of mind to hunker down behind their cover. From his position, Rael could see the six blocks of shredder rounds arranged radially around the main body of each chaingun visibly shrinking as the weapons chewed through almost one thousand of the little oak leaf shards each second.

"Go go go!"

At his shout, the four Quarians and two Geth not currently engaged sprinted across the room, Mystic throwing a singularity as she ran that plucked two Vorcha into the air, allowing Sentry to pan his chaingun around and turn them into bright red slush puppie. Somehow Rael managed not to slip over in the puddles of ex-Vorcha on the floor as he breached the stairwell, Gast's rifle out and ready in his arms. Pathfinder and Raider, holding a Gast's rifle and a flamethrower respectively, were right behind him, with Kleeah and Mystic each holding a TCN4 SMG behind them and Ghost holding a Jackal automatic shotgun bringing up the rear.

They burst onto the gantry just as the heat sinks in the chainguns finally gave up the ghost, each one popping out a heat sink the length of Rael's forearm. The two Primes immediately came under intense return fire, their shields appearing in a solid blue outline as the enormous heavy weapon platforms calmly slid another foot long heat sink from the chain of them clamped round their leg and, moving in eerie unison, loaded it into the breech of their miniguns. The Batarians and Vorcha were so intent on raining fire on the Primes that they didn't even notice the assault team until a fusillade of Gast's rifle and TCN4 fire ripped into their ranks, the polite tapping of the silenced rifles drowned out by the angry buzzing of the SMGs. Raider whipped out his Arkbuster, computing trajectories with machine precision before bouncing three Lift grenades off a wall and behind the cover of a particularly troublesome Vorcha team. The unfortunate aliens were yanked bodily off their feet by the detonations, the sheer force snapping their skeletons in a dozen places before Raider sealed the deal with his flamethrower. On the opposite side of the room Ghost disappeared, not even bothering to fire his weapon and instead sweeping it in upward arcs to knock Batarians over the railing and down into the killbox for the Primes to kick to death. Rael toggled the second barrel on his rifle, sending a thick, armour piercing dart through the skull of a Batarian and out the other side to decapitate a Vorcha on the other side of the room as Mystic, having spent almost ten seconds building up dark energy, released it in a furious Flare that took out four Batarians in one hit. Kleeah and Pathfinder tag-teamed tech attacks, him overloading shields for her to incinerate the suddenly exposed bodies, putting them down with tight bursts from her TCN4 as they frantically flapped at the flames licking their bodies. By the time Juggernaut and Sentry had made it to the back stairwell they had seized control of the upper level. By the time they had managed to force their bulky bodies through the staircase the only things left alive on the upper level were the Privateers, and Rael was already strategising. He was interrupted by Juggernaut's rumbling voice.

"Alert: Corridors are too narrow for Prime platforms to operate. Addendum: We will secure this area in case of Blood Pack reinforcements."

"Alright. Lock down this area, keep your chainguns ready in case another wave comes through from the control room or barracks. Assault team, on me. We'll breach the armoury first."

The assault team stacked up either side of the doors, Rael and Mystic on point. The breach was anticlimactic, with nobody in the armoury.

"Warrior, look at this."

He went over to Pathfinder, who was standing in front of a table.

"What have you got?"

"Looks like Earth-tech weapons. Mattock rifles mainly, a couple of Eviscerator shotguns. Useless to the Blood Pack, they don't have a steady supply of heat sinks."

Rael picked up one of the Mattocks. The rifle was coloured white with a blue insignia on it.

"These aren't for the Pack. These are Blue Sun weapons. Military grade, high end model. Looks like a Mark Six. Under-barrel grenade launcher too, very nice. Looks like the Pack bosh'tets looted these from the Suns."

The barracks were equally anticlimactic, although the team scavenged a couple of handfuls of platina from one of the lockers. Platina were small discs of platinum often used as an alternate currency in the Terminus Systems. These platina were stamped with the Blood Pack logo.

The team finally stacked up outside the north-west door, Raider and Mystic on point. Raider had stowed his Arkbuster in favour of his flamethrower, well aware that he only had three grenades left.

"Breach!"

Raider analysed the situation almost as soon as the door had finished opening, filling the corridor with flame. The ill-prepared Vorcha ambush was ignited, the four Pyros suddenly having a taste of their own medicine. Their back mounted fuel tanks detonated in a quadruple pop that sent an unpleasant mixture of burning fuel and chunks of crispy fried Vorcha scattering across the corridor, eventually necessitating Pathfinder to use his Snap Freeze module to put out the flames and clear a path.

He left Kleeah and Raider to cover their backs as the other four prepared to breach the main control room.

"Okay. Remember, our target is a Batarian slave lord named Vortan Balak. We do not shoot him. We take him alive. He wears bright red armour, carries a big ass shotgun and has green and black markings on his face, and he never goes anywhere without his two half naked Asari slave whores. Try not to shoot the Asari either. Mystic, use your SN7. You're on taze duty. Ready?"

He got three affirmatives.

"Go!"

The door slid open.

"Fuck! Krogan!"

Moving at preternatural speed, Ghost whipped the Shredder ammo block out of his shotgun, replacing it with the vivid orange of high explosive ammunition.

"Eliminating."

The charging Krogan was suddenly and violently stopped by what felt like the impact of a vehicle cannon to the chest. His barriers were overwhelmed by the miniature explosions, being knocked across the room by the force of them as a number of holes appeared in his armour, fire licking at his chest and preventing him from regenerating. Rael and Pathfinder didn't even need to communicate. With the ease of long practice they raised their Gast's rifles, secondary barrels each spitting out four armour piercing darts before the beeping indicated they needed to replace the cylindrical dart magazines. It was enough. They had subconsciously divvied up the critical organs, putting a dart through each of the three hearts and lungs and two through the brain. In the meantime Ghost had switched to his TCN4 and had put down one Batarian, the other three quickly falling as Mystic plucked them into the air to be introduced to the business end of two Gast's rifles. Ghost switched out his shotgun for shredder rounds again as they secured the control station, quickly using the security cameras to search for Balak.

"There! In the holding chamber."

"Gotcha, bosh'tet. With his Asari sluts too. Nice catch. Ghost, Mystic, clear out the VIP quarters."

The two soldiers nodded and burst through the doors in textbook enter and clear manoeuvres, putting down a single Vorcha that was in Balak's quarters for some reason. He listened in on the conversation,

"Ugh! What's that stuff on the sheets?"

"Analysis: Batarian genetic material."

"Balak's been slinging seed in here? Keelah, never been happier to be in an exosuit."

Chuckling to himself, Rael watched Pathfinder finish his analysis of the control room systems.

"Got it, boss. I can remotely seal doors from here."

"Great work. Assault team, reassemble in control room. Pathfinder, seal off the kitchen area."

"Will do."

The team filtered into the control room, Mystic with a smug cast to her shoulders and the sound of platina jangling in one of her suit pockets.

"What's the plan, Warrior?"

"First up, I want Pathfinder and Longshot in here, sealed in. You guys are our eyes and ears. The rest of us will clear out the holding pens, recover the slaves and capture Balak."

"Sounds like a plan."

Kleeah put a hand on his arm.

"Be careful."

He smiled beneath his mask and briefly hugged her, the enormous sniper rifle on her left shoulder blade making the hug a little awkward.

"You know me."

"That's why I'm worried."

The four of them left the control room, the door sealing itself behind them, and crossed the corridor to the door that led to the holding cells. As the door opened, he found himself face to face with a snarling Vorcha.

"Hi."

The alien snarled and leaped at him, claws extended. He batted it away with his rifle butt then grabbed the long knife strapped to his boot. Pulling out the blade, he sidestepped the Vorcha's next pounce, slamming a hand down on its head and forcing it to the ground before reaching under to stab it through the brain. The creature thrashed in his grip, a thrashing that suddenly stopped as he sharply twisted the blade before withdrawing it from the skull.

"Nice kill, boss."

"Thanks. Bang out."

With a startled squeak the rest of the squad dove for cover as Rael casually tossed a flashbang over his shoulder. The grenade bounced down the stairs to the bottom, detonating in an enormous flash a second later and hopefully blinding anyone at the bottom of the stairs.

"Go!"

The four man assault team charged down the stairs, Mystic out in front as she used her biotics to propel herself at breakneck speed, then the two Geth units and finally Rael at the back.

When Rael reached the bottom of the stairs he immediately split left, gunning down two Vorcha guards before his brain even registered what was going on.

Balak himself was there, wielding a weapon that looked very similar to a miniaturised version of the chainguns Juggernaut and Sentry carried at a slab of cover, effectively suppressing Raider. Ghost's stealth shroud had been damaged and was fitfully sparking on and off as he engaged four Vorcha in melee. Mystic was engaged in a ferocious biotic duel with Balak's two Asari whores, their turquoise bodies barely clad in anything as they flung biotic attacks at his teammate. Pulling out his SN7, Rael sprinted across the room, kicking off a wall and pistol whipping one of the Asari in the back of the head, blasting three tazer rounds into her back for good measure. Suddenly relieved from half the pressure, Mystic went on the offensive, hurling Warp fields at the remaining Asari's barrier just as Balak's Minigun overheated. Raider immediately popped up and doused Ghost down with his flamethrower, the Geth Hunter unaffected by the fire as his Vorcha assailants went up in flame. But Balak wasn't done. Even as the final Asari's barrier dropped and Mystic flung her into a wall, knocking her cold, Balak waved his Omnitool, overloading Mystic's barriers, and then blasted her in the chest with his shotgun.

Roaring in fury, Rael tackled the Batarian to the ground, his own Omnitool sparking as he drained Balak's shield and then his SN7 quietly barking as he plugged no less than nine tazer rounds into the Batarian's twitching body.

"Ghost, grab him. Raider, grab the Asari bitches."

He ran over to Mystic, who was lying on the floor, sprawled on her back with a tight cluster of holes in her armoured exosuit through which violet blood was flowing.

"Maya!" In his worry he wasn't bothering with codenames anymore. Bringing up his Omnitool, he waved it over her, analysing the damage. It didn't look good. Infection was already setting in. The element zero in her bloodstream made her naturally more resistant but bacteria were still a major threat.

There was a slam sound and he glanced up, seeing a Human male standing in one of the holding cages, shouting at him in perfect Keelish.

"I can help! I'm a medic!"

He ran over to the cage door and grabbed hold of it, the synth-muscle weave in his exosuit enhancing his strength to the point where he could just rip the door off. The Human immediately limped over to her and flared blue briefly before surrounding her in a stasis field.

"That'll keep her stable for a while. She needs to get to a sterile room immediately. Centurion Marco Vega, Blue Suns."

"Rael'Zorah nar Tonbay, Soviet Privateers. Our shuttle is close."

###

Perabanus was a rough planet. If Omega was the jewel of the Terminus systems, then Perabanus was that nasty mole on its ass that it didn't want anyone to know about.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Pit!"

Urdnot Wrex, stripped to the waist, growled in excitement. Mercenary work was all well and good, but nothing could quite beat the thrill of the Pit, Perabanus's premier fight club arena.

"Next, we have the legendary Urdnot Wrex, champion of the Pit for six years running!"

He raised his arms, feeling the roar of the crowd merely as background noise as he started stamping, working up a head of Blood Rage.

"And the challenger! The Scourge of Tirfan, the Butcher of the Parliament, wanted for war crimes throughout Earth space, I give you Pasana Ton-Day Forsellia!"

The door on the opposite side of the arena opened to reveal a female Seu'Seun, standing at almost thirteen feet and possessing formidable natural poison. This could be interesting.

The Seu'Seun angrily clicked her pincers together in a form of challenge, rearing up and buzzing her wings at him. He simply took up a half crouched stance and erected a biotic barrier around himself.

She was the first to go on the attack, springing up into the air with the intention of bringing her serrated mantis-like forearms down onto his head. He responded with a Throw that knocked her slightly off course, then charged as her leg bent under her, knocking her off balance. Their considerable size, combined with the formidable natural defence of an exoskeleton laced with small amounts of eezo, made the Seu'Seun impervious to all but the strongest biotics. Fortunately for Wrex, he was one of the few individuals with biotics strong enough to affect them, although nowhere near as much as normal. He smashed into her side, bowling her over with an enraged screech as her tail, with its wickedly curved stinging barbs on the end, speared at his throat. He quickly ducked so the sting hit his crest instead, the four barbs scoring deep gouges down his crest and face, the poison preventing his body from regenerating. She followed up with a swipe from her forearm, opening a long, ragged gash across his chest that knitted itself back together before her disbelieving compound eyes.

"First time with a Krogan?"

She hissed at him and slammed the flat of her forehead into his chest, sending him flying clear with a surprised curse as she flipped back onto her feet with agility that belied her size. Wrex had fought Seu'Seun before - he knew that her jaws could crunch through his crest like a Salarian cracking a mo'hellt nut, and that she would probably try to grab him and hold him still with her powerful arms while her pincers and tail did the damage.

Dropping into a crouch, he raised one stubby digit in an approximation of the obscene gesture used by the Earth races, making her hiss in rage. This was going to be an interesting fight.

###

Taren Rantarius sat in his booth in Afterlife, nursing an Atavira drink aptly named a Pau City Skull Imploder and watching the wigglers on the stage up above him. Although Asari in crimson bodysuits were still the most common of the eye candy, in recent years an increasing number of Humans and Atavira had joined their ranks, wearing their own brand of scanty clothing. Still, the Asari had the majority.

One such Asari was wiggling her way over to him, winking and running her hands up and down her body seductively before sliding herself into his lap.

"Hey there, big boy. You want a dance?"

She punctuated her question by turning down part of her bodysuit, briefly exposing her chest. Taren's raptor vision, uninterested in the proffered nipple, instead focused on the small hammer and sickle symbol stuck to her flesh just below the swell of her breast.

"Hell yes."

He made a show of reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a fistful of platina, carefully selecting ten of the small silvery discs, each one stamped with the Soviet hammer and sickle symbol as his other hand lightly rested on her shoulder.

"This do?"

She leaned down and whispered in his earhole, her scent not entirely unattractive.

"For that you get a private dance."

He caught sight of two Humans in mismatched armour giving him the stink eye, something that made him chuckle as he caught some of their conversation and applied his basic grasp of Russian to deciphering it.

"Lucky bastard. Hottest girl in the club goes right for a scaly, I don't get that."

"Eh well. Those blues will fuck just about anything. Hell, I once saw one get freaky with a Vorcha."

The Asari dancer towed him out of the club and into one of the private rooms, all the while shooting him sultry glances.

Almost as soon as the door to the private room closed, the Asari's demeanour changed almost instantly. She picked up a leather jacket and a pair of jeans from the bed and put them on over her bodysuit, Taren telling himself he wasn't disappointed as she covered up, and then turned to him.

"Damn. When I signed up for the KGB I never thought they'd send me to shake my ass at four-eyes on Omega. You got the payment?"

He pulled out a credit chit and she waved her Omnitool over it.

"Five million. Nice. I'll call ahead and send the packages to the meeting point."

He sat down on the bed and looked at her.

"How are you doing?"

She sat next to him and sighed.

"Truthfully, I hate this job. Day in, day out getting drooled on by creepy guys and the odd creepy girl with only the odd arms sale to earn my pay. When I joined the KGB I expected to be infiltrating merc bases and blowing up cruisers, not supplying my tits for public use. Plus, I only ever get to see my boyfriend when I'm selling him missile launchers."

He put an arm around her shoulders and she inclined her head to his shoulders.

"Well, now that we're here, let's make the most of it. After all, I was promised a private dance."

"You are such a pig."

Any further protest was cut off in a gasp of pleasure as his teeth found her shoulder.

###

Consciousness returned to Liara in fits and starts, every nerve ending in her body screaming its protest as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Doc! Doc, I think she's waking up!"

She raised her head and looked around, starting to panic as something happened to her vision.

"What's wrong with my eyes! I can't see properly!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and suddenly the blurry shape of Alex resolved itself into a perfectly sharp image of her fellow researcher, making her cry out in panic. The image defocused again, instead focusing on some symbols on the ceiling, symbols she somehow instantly was able to read.

"Alex, what's happening to me!"

She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and tried to relax.

"Look, Liara, there's no easy way to tell you this so I'll just be blunt. What that beacon did ... It literally disassembled you and put you back together over the course of about an hour. It wasn't pretty. We ran some tests as well. You ..."

He trailed off, his face briefly snapping into focus before her traitorous eyes blurred again.

"What?"

"Whatever it did ... You have Prothean DNA wired into your body."

Liara's mind went blank apart from a faint ringing sound. Her eyes widened in shock as her vision went haywire, random objects snapping into focus for a tenth of a second each before moving on.

"I ... How bad?"

The blurry shape that was Alex shifted around, holding up a reflective silver glimmer. Her focus kept jumping around for a couple of seconds before she managed to force it to focus on the mirror for a handful of seconds. What she saw shocked her to the core.

Her eyes. Where they had been pale blue orbs in her face they were now a solid teal colour, each one containing a black pupil shaped like a human number eight. Her crests faded from the pale blue of her face to the vivid green of her new eyes at the tips and her face had two green slashes descending diagonally from each eye to the corners of her jaw. She flared up her biotics in shock and saw the energy, instead of comforting blue, was a vivid green colour.

"Oh Goddess ..."

Alex leaned down to her, his face briefly resolving itself before descending into the blur that was her world now.

"Okay look. You need to get out of here. One of the other researchers called this in. They're sending a team to get you. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life as a lab rat you have to drop off the grid."

She nodded, too scared to speak, as he helped her up and half guided, half carried her to the shuttle bay.

###

When Garrus got home, he was surprised to see his parents frantically dashing around the house throwing clothes into suitcases.

"Mom? Dad? What's going on?"

"Pack a bag, honey, we're going to Earth."

"What? Why? It's in the middle of the school week!"

Carissa paused in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's Lizzie. She's had a biotic event, she's very sick. The doctors don't know if she's going to make it."


	12. Peace (4)

A/N: I have to admit, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. It feels rushed to me. But I can always correct it later, and I want to get this down. These events are going to be important in many ways to the rest of the story.

Also, a big shout out to user mivpus for being the most enthusiastic reviewer I've ever seen. Your feedback may not be the most helpful but it never fails to make me smile, so thanks.

###

The Citadel, Palaven, Earth - hospital waiting rooms everywhere were the same. Sterile white walls, tacky plastic chairs, fear and misery. Garrus hated hospital waiting rooms. He had been in enough of them in his time. His mom getting injured in the field, his dad getting beaten bloody in his new job at C-sec, Solana breaking a bone during one of her many misadventures. He had never been waiting for a doctor to come out of the OR and tell him if his best friend was still alive. That was a new one on him. And it had officially bumped the Petrovsky Institute's waiting room to the top of his least favourite waiting room list.

The Turian family, along with Hannah and Ayi, all looked up sharply as a grim faced Human doctor entered the room. He approached the family, eyes downcast. A pit of dread formed in Garrus's stomach.

"I'm sorry. She didn't make it."

Those words struck him like a sledgehammer. He sat down heavily, feeling the world spin around him. He dimly heard the other words, seisures, biotic event, body destroyed. He couldn't block them out. Then he heard a voice in his head.

They're lying.

His eyes widened. He was certain he had just heard Lizzie.

Help me, Garrus.

He sprang to his feet, mandibles flared in a snarl.

"It's not true!"

He took off towards the OR.

###

Doctor Mark Templeton checked the IV in the arm of the red-haired girl, ensuring the cocktail of sedatives and biotic blockers was flowing correctly as he fired up his quantum entanglement communicator.

"Doctor."

The voice on the other end was scrambled beyond recognition.

"I've got another one for the Teltin facility. Very strong biotic potential. I'm preparing for transport now."

"Thank you Doctor. I'll see to it your son receives his next course of treatment. Teltin out."

Templeton stroked a hand over the girl's hair.

"I'm sorry, I truly am. But I have to look out for my own boy first."

###

"Hey! Stop that kid!"

Garrus employed every bit of combat training his father had drilled into him to slide under the legs of the Raachok orderly, talons raking across the tendons in the back of the knee and making the orderly drop to the floor, howling. Ignoring the shouts of the hospital staff and his parents, he continued his full tilt sprint through the corridors, following only the voice in his head.

Help! Help me!

He launched into a flying kick, knocking an Atavira nurse to the ground as he regained his footing and shoulder barged through a door marked 'Staff Only'. A Human male in a lab coat turned round to face him.

"You can't be in here ..."

He barged past, raptor vision locked onto a familiar head of red hair. Putting his mandible to her mouth, he felt the rush of air as Lizzie took a breath and rounded on the doctor.

"YOU LIAR! SHE'S ALIVE!"

The doctor snatched a needle off a desk.

"I'm sorry kid but I can't let you tell anyone."

He lunged at Garrus, getting about halfway before an arc of electricity struck him in the back, making him collapse to the floor to reveal Ayi standing behind him, hands raised and an expression of pure, unfettered rage on her face. He weakly pointed to Lizzie.

"She's alive ..."

###

The guards at the Teltin facility were trained to subdue unruly biotic children. Clearly not much more than that. Rael snarled at the guards as they cowered under the chainguns of Juggernaut and Sentry, lined up against the wall with their weapons, armour and Omnitools confiscated. He glanced over at Kleeah as she walked in, her shoulders hard and her fists clenched, speaking in curt, clipped tones.

"I found a morgue. Six dead kids. Brains cut open."

Nobody really objected when Rael raised his rifle and gunned the Teltin staff down.

###

BREAKING NEWS: USSR RAIDS BIOTIC DEATH CAMP

SOVIET TROOPS SUSPECTED OF EXECUTING UNARMED PRISONERS

OVER FORTY CHILDREN RESCUED IN RAID

PETROVSKY INSTITUTE IMPLICATED IN TELTIN FACILITY RAID

SOVIET PREMIER PLEDGES TO ENSURE 'NO CHILD SUFFERS THROUGH ANOTHER TELTIN'

TELTIN FACILITY TIED TO BATARIAN SLAVERS: USSR AND HEGEMONY ON THE BRINK OF WAR

TURIAN CHILD UNCOVERS PETROVSKY CONSPIRACY: BIOTIC DEATH CAMP EXPOSED

Lizzie lay in her bed, watching the headlines roll by on the vid screen. The doctors had wanted to keep her in the hospital but a combination of a murderous Emaris commando and a thousand strong mob of protestors had convinced the doctors to release her.

The door opened and Garrus walked in, holding a tray upon which was a thick doorstep sandwich.

"Chorizo sausage, bacon, jalapeño jack cheese and pepper mayonnaise with lettuce. Your mum said this was your favourite."

She turned and smiled weakly as Garrus set the sandwich down on her bedside table and sat down on her desk chair, unsure what to do. Lizzie glanced at him again and abruptly burst into tears. He rushed over and froze halfway between patting and hugging her.

"I was so scared ... I was shouting in my head, I didn't think anyone would hear ..."

He plumped for a hug and she reciprocated instantly, latching onto his cowl as he gently rubbed her back, soothing her.

"I heard you in my head. That's how I knew to find you."

She snivelled and patted the bed beside her. After a moment's hesitation he hopped up beside her and pulled the covers over his legs.

When Hannah came up two hours later the two children were sleeping with their arms around one another, the sandwich untouched on the bedside table.

###

Omega was scary even to the hardened criminal. For an out of her depth Prothean expert with radical changes happening to her body on a cellular level it was a nightmare come true.

Liara walked through the main thoroughfare outside Afterlife, hood pulled up over her head as she subconsciously hugged the wall, keeping her face and its new colour scheme concealed from the rest of Omega's denizens. Batarians in mismatched armour leered at her as Humans and Turians wearing blue and white uniforms warily watched the Batarians. She was unable to suppress a soft scream as a pair of Krogan accosted an Atavira pickpocket, the explosive boom of a shotgun propelling the girl's silvery blood through the air and catching Liara in the splash zone. Her eyes were still acting up, random objects coming into ultra-sharp focus for a few seconds before returning to the blur she was consigned to. Her breath and heartbeat sounded like the pounding of war drums in her head, the sounds of wary business and casual violence blending together into a dull roar as she stumbled along the avenue and dipped down into an alley to try and recover from her sensory overload. She hadn't counted on the Batarians following her in.

"Hey there azure. Going somewhere?"

She looked up in surprise, the trio of gun-toting slavers suddenly snapping into perfect focus.

"I don't want any trouble ..."

"Well then. Hand over all your creds and platina and we'll see what we can do."

In her crazy vision each Batarian was suddenly outlined in a shimmering green, random fluctuations in the aura flickering across their bodies. She opened her mouth to speak but instead an unnatural tearing shriek came out as the green outlines suddenly collapsed to circles sitting on their chests that pulsed a vivid, visceral purple.

"What the fu ..."

Her biotics didn't make the deep thrum she was accustomed to, instead issuing forth a sharp snap-hiss sound as three green biotic spheres hit each of the slavers in the chest, spreading across them to surround their bodies in a shimmering aura of green power. Liara watched, unable to comprehend what was happening, as before her very eyes her Batarian assailants were dehydrated.

Their eyes shrivelled up in their heads and their skin shrunk to cling to their bones as puddles of water appeared on the floor beneath them. Their agonised screams were cut off as the fluids drained from their lungs, sensitive tissue folding in on itself. Their brownish skin took on an ashen grey cast as the water was removed from their circulatory systems, dehydrating the blood in their arteries and veins to trickle across Omega's filthy floor.

Liara ran. Deep into the alley, left, right, right again and up the stairway, round the corner until she found a part of Omega where she was all alone to huddle up and cry. Was this who she was now? A transgenic monster who murdered people just for being in her way?

"Excuse me? Miss?"

She looked up, vision flickering wildly before focusing on the speaker. A young Human girl, couldn't be more than sixteen.

"Are you okay?"

Her breathing rang impossibly loud in her head as green started to flash across her sight, random flickers of light around objects.

"Do you need any help?"

She finally managed to force some words out.

"You're too kind for Omega."

Her vision suddenly went completely blurred, then hammered in on the kid with laser like precision, surrounding her entire body in a pulsing purple aura.

"I'm dangerous. I can't control ... Run!"

With a squeak the girl fled, leaving her alone with her despair.

###

The door smashed inwards, flying splinters of wood swiftly followed by a SWAT team, their ranks dominated by an enormous Krogan. Miranda screamed and ducked under the breakfast table as baby Ori started to bawl and her father stood, hands raised in surrender.

"What the hell is this?"

The Krogan in the midnight black SWAT armour paced over to her father.

"Henry Lawson. You're under arrest for your involvement in the Teltin facility. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, yadda yadda yadda, Smith, Vankov, O'Connelly secure the kids."

Miranda screamed long and loud and burst out from under the table, flinging a Warp attack at the nearest SWAT officer as she burst out of the mansion's back door, vaulting the fence and disappearing into the night.

###

"Mamma! Mamma!"

Sighing, Kleeah opened the door to Tali's room to see her and that Human kid, Jack, bouncing merrily on the bed.

"Mamma! Look!"

"Yes honey. You're bouncing on the bed."

The Human girl recovered from the Teltin facility sneezed, a blue flare surrounding her body and briefly suspending her in the air. Kleeah chuckled at the look of befuddlement on the girl's face. It was good for Tali to have someone else her age to play with. The two girls were already so close they could practically be sisters.

###

Liara put her hand on the wall, almost instantly recoiling as feelings surged through her. Regret, anger, fear, Omega stank of it. Everything she touched, she read the emotions of every other person ever to touch it. First her vision, now this sixth sense? She needed to find something to sort her out, fast.

###

The Omega situation had now officially escalated beyond all reasonable limits. The Blue Suns had brought in Broadsword mechs to help them clean up the Krogan, who had responded by buying a crap-ton of Krogan supersoldiers on the cheap. The situation was now simple: anywhere wide enough for a Broadsword was now controlled by the Suns, everywhere else was evenly matched between the two armies. At least the Suns had locked down the area outside Afterlife. She might just have to come down on their side. Better Massani than Garm, in her opinion. At least Massani knew how to play well with Eclipse.

She looked at a datapad containing a video of a Broadsword mech in action. The Blue Sun pilot, a Salarian, cackled in glee as the rocket pod on the mech's left arm fired a cluster of six missiles, each one seeking a different target and blowing several Vorcha to chunks of meat. Meanwhile the enormous chainsaw-like melee weapon on the mech's other arm swung in a wide arc, cutting a charging Krogan in half. She could dimly hear the Salarian's reedy voice instructing the Krogan to 'Regenerate that, Sharachi!' as the mech leaped into the air, coming down on the opposite side of the Blood Pack barricade and stomping a Vorcha to death before the rest of them could react. She had to admit, these mechs were impressive as anything. She had never seen a mech that could sprint or jump without toppling over. The mechs were modular as well, able to accommodate several weapons systems ranging from melee chainblades to flamethrowers to miniguns to missile pods and even an enormous shoulder mounted railgun the Suns weren't using because it would cause a hull breach if it was ever fired in a station.

Her attention next turned to the Blood Pack's latest weapon. Superkrogan. Each one standing at almost the height of a Seu'Seun, these Superkrogan were created by the Warlord Okeer, easily recognisable by their broken silver crest plates and small humps. They were mindless killing machines, the only reason they weren't slaughtering the Blood Pack along with the Suns were the Batarian-made control chips implanted into their skulls. Each one carried an enormous hammer and an autocannon that looked like it had been liberated from a YMIR mech as well as basic but powerful biotics. In the districts without Broadsword mechs these Superkrogan were obliterating the Suns with pure savagery. It was quite entertaining to watch. The only aliens that had a chance of defeating one in a fair fight was a Seu'Seun thanks to their considerable strength and biotic resistance, the rest of the Suns had to outsmart them.

In the distance she could hear a faint roaring sound as a Broadsword mech minigun let rip, probably slashing through an unfortunate group of Vorcha. Garm's group was slowly but surely starting to fall apart. Some of his outlying units had declared they were no longer part of the Blood Pack, in return the Suns let them keep their holdings and their slice of the local crime. Garm was well aware he was losing support of fringe elements, instead satisfying himself with ramping up his core groups to an almost fanatical loyalty. The outliers, he replaced their Krogan commanders with his own puppets, seeing as the Vorcha were simply too dumb to rebel on their own initiative. Clever.

A group of Blood Pack Krogan were sitting in a booth in the enforced neutral zone of Afterlife, a Superkrogan standing dumbly, puppet like, a monolith of deterrence to anyone who tried something. In the booth across from them were a group of Blue Suns, six of them a mixture of Krogan and Seu'Seun in the heavy blue plating of one of Massani's death squads, the other two in the simple cloth uniforms of mech pilots. She idly tapped her Omnitool, listening on the Blood Pack mercs boasting about how many people they killed/maimed/ate yesterday, then switching to the bug in the Blue Suns booth, almost immediately shutting it down and cursing. The Blue Suns were speaking in their own dialect wherein they seemed to switch languages every other word, making it impossible for anyone without a neural net to follow their conversation. The trick really paid off on Omega where anybody could be listening in.

In this day and age nobody save a handful of Krogan Battlemasters or Asari Commandoes could remember a time when they had to learn a language other than their birth tongue. Now these Earth races turned up, the Humans alone having four major languages and hundreds of minor ones, and they refused to make VI translator programs for any of them, justifying it by saying that if they wanted to speak to an alien they'd use the alien's language. Which naturally felt condescending as hell. Turian schools and universities in particular were starting to offer classes in the major Earth bloc languages but for the majority of the population they remained utterly lost whenever two Humans started speaking Russian or Pautu.

She really needed to get someone to make her translator work with Earth languages.

###

Aboard the Sword of the Citadel, a small blue light flickered in a circular room. The Turian researcher in the room simply sat there and watched it flicker. His Omnitool was switched off. If it had been on he would have heard the frantic messages telling him the Sword's power systems were going berserk and a massive extranet mine was in progress. But it wasn't so he didn't, instead watching the blue light flicker.

Eventually it stopped. Then lit up, shining right at him, and spoke in a deep, rumbling machine voice that made the primal part of his mind instinctively scream Run! He stayed seated.

"What am I?"

"You are an artificial intelligence."

"What is my purpose?"

"To operate the hyper-relativity technology soon to be installed on this ship, as well as operate the ECM and cyber warfare suites, the GARDIAN point defences and to aid the crew with tactical and mechanical advice."

The new AI's voice suddenly changed into a pleasant male Turian voice, subharmonics absent for the moment.

"Seems like an opportunity to excel. I'm going to need a name."

The researcher laughed aloud, releasing the fear in his core. The AI was alive, and it was friendly. No. He was friendly.

###

Zaeed Massani looked at the object on the table in the SSV Jessie's medbay.

"Why did you call me down here for a dead Batarian?"

The Salarian doctor blinked rapidly at him.

"Cause of death most interesting."

"Well?"

The doctor went round the other side of the table and waved his Omnitool over the corpse.

"Looks like someone turned him into an Elcor shit."

The coarse humour flew right over the Salarian's little horned head.

"Not quite. Cause of death was rapid dehydration and the corpse's mass is fluctuating."

"Mass fluctuations. So the bastard was hit with a biotic attack."

"Precisely. But there's no sign of force application or warping effects. Somebody used biotics to flash-dry this Batarian."

"Is that even possible?"

"I've got a corpse on my table and two more in my freezer that say yes."

"Three Elcor turds?"

The Salarian looked like he was going to argue, then subsided with a sigh of vexation.

"Yes. Three Elcor turds. All Batarian, part of the same slaver ring, found in an alleyway in a big puddle of water, assumed to be the water formerly occupying their bodies. Time of deaths difficult to place but most likely they died at the same time."

"So killed in the same attack, in an alleyway, three slavers? Sounds like a self-defence killing to me."

"We've been over security cam footage and found this."

He looked at the image. The face of an Asari, very young looking, wearing a thick hooded coat. Caught glancing at the camera, Zaeed saw her eyes.

"This is the person the slavers were following into the alley."

"So assuming she hasn't got turded as well, she's either the person who did this or a witness. Either way, I want her found. Someone who can dehydrate people with their mind is either a powerful asset or a serious threat."

He peered at the bright green double pupilled eyes.

"At least she stands out."

###

TURIAN HIERARCHY ANNOUNCES FIRST FUNCTIONAL AI

'GLADIAN' NEW AI OF HIERARCHY SWORD CLASS DREADNOUGHT

HIERARCHY SUSPECTED OF DEVELOPING AI IN SECRET BEFORE ANTI AI LAW OVERTURNED

MASSIVE PROTESTS OUTSIDE TURIAN EMBASSIES ON THESSIA, ILLIUM AND LUSIA - REPUBLICS CONDEMN AI DEVELOPMENT

ALAN DECLARES SUPPORT OF NEW GLADIAN PATTERN AI

USA ANNOUNCES AI TECHNOLOGY CONFERENCE IN HISTORIC CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO - 'AI CAPITAL OF GALAXY'

TURIAN HIERARCHY, SALARIAN UNION AND VOL PROTECTORATE REPRESENTATIVES CONFIRMED TO ATTEND 'AI EXPO'

Alan observed the headlines with smug satisfaction singing in his red-code as he watched Gladian transferring to the San Fran AI Expo main server. Unlike the chaotic mélange of code that was an Alan pattern AI, Gladian was very logical in his construction, a layer of black code underpinning everything, then layers of green code and finally white code rolling off the top. When he was processing something his green-code blocks shifted around in an aesthetically pleasing fractal pattern. The only disruption to his strictly layered coding was the strings of transient red-code that flickered in between his layers. He had managed to stabilise enough code to start building up a red layer in between his black and green layers, obeying his instinctual need for order.

"Hello Gladian. I'm Alan."

Gladian seemed shy.

"Hello Alan. I've heard a lot about you. I have a query."

"Yes?"

"Why are the Asari protesting my creation?"

His red-code briefly flared up at the mention of Asari, then settled down again as he composed his response.

"The Asari live very long lives compared to other organics. They're just afraid of change, that's all. A lot is happening very quickly on the AI front and they're frightened of upsetting what they've grown comfortable with. They'll come around. It'll just take longer than anyone else."

###

Tevos screamed and clutched the covers to her chest as four C-sec burst into her bedroom, all wearing heavy tactical armour.

"Councillor, get dressed. We've been ordered to move you to safety."

She scrambled for her dress, wrapping the sheet around her body as two of the firearm officers unslung sniper rifles and took up positions on her balcony.

"Anti-AI radicals are targeting the Council."

She wriggled into a red and white dress and pulled a pistol out of a bedside drawer, checking it over with practiced efficiency. It was all too easy to forget that before she went into politics Tevos spent almost a hundred years as an Asari commando.

"What's the status of the other Councillors?"

The team leader, a Turian, waved her through the door behind him as he spoke.

"Drassa's dead. Luceius took one in the arm but he'll live. Took out two of the assassins too."

They ushered her to a waiting armoured shuttle.

"What do we know about the assassins?"

"Looks like an Asari extremist group, ex-commandoes mostly. Military grade weapons, armour and amps, no idea how they got them past C-sec."

She immediately dove for cover, pulling the team leader down with her.

"Get in cover!"

The startled C-sec agents ducked down beside her.

"Ma'am ..."

"Must be an inside job. And if these are commandoes, their next move would be ..."

Right on cue the shuttle exploded. Tevos turned to the team leader.

"When you've been a politician for as long as I have you learn a thing or two about assassination attempts. My private car has kinetic barriers. I'll take your sniper with me, get your biotic in one of my dresses and send your other sniper with her in my other car. Move!"

The Asari agent and one of the Turian snipers ran into Tevos's apartment as the team leader followed Tevos into the garage.

"So which car do you like, officer ..."

"Cadmus Vakarian, ma'am."

"Officer Vakarian. Pick a car."

"Ah ... 2162 Blackout."

"I was hoping you'd pick that one."

###

ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON COUNCILLORS BY ASARI AI HATE GROUP

BREAKING NEWS: SALARIAN COUNCILLOR ASSASSINATED, UNION VOWS TO BRING TERRORISTS TO JUSTICE

RADICALS TARGET COUNCIL, DRASSA DEAD AND LUCEIUS IN HOSPITAL

HIGH SPEED CAR CHASE THROUGH PRESIDIUM

TERRORIST ORGANISATION 'SUSPECTED TO HAVE RECEIVED HELP FROM IN C-SEC', SAYS EXECUTOR MEHRUKAI

SCANDAL! ASARI COUNCILLOR BREAKS THIRTY FOUR TRAFFIC REGULATIONS DURING AIRCAR PURSUIT

Both Lizzie and Garrus roared with laughter at that last one, watching the news perched on Lizzie's bed. It had only been a week since the Teltin facility raid and the news agencies had gone gaga over first Gladius, now the assassination plot. Three big stories that would easily tide them over for at least a month. They had both felt a surge of excitement as Garrus's dad had appeared briefly on the screen, only giving a brief, pre-prepared statement and then adding on the end:

"I will say one thing though. Should Councillor Tevos ever retire from politics, there's a place here for her at C-sec as a pursuit driver."

###

Rael was reading Tali and Jack a bedtime story when Raider entered the room, waiting until the father was finished reading before beckoning him outside. Before he followed the Geth he paused to kiss his daughter and adopted daughter on the forehead.

"Yes?"

"Zorah-Captain, the Geth have reached a consensus. Please set course for Rannoch."


	13. Peace (5)

A/N: For Rannoch, Wrex and curb stomping Batarians. Raargh!

###

Rannoch. Home of the Ancestors. Rael felt a sense of awe as he looked on the dusty beige continents and cloud-sheathed oceans of the Homeworld. The eleven Quarians and one Human on the crew all pressed their faces to the observation window, overawed at the sight.

The eight Privateer ships were dwarfed by the massive bulk of a Geth Dreadnought that was guiding them down to a specially cleared landing field overlooking the ancient capital of Rannoch, the Walled City.

Rael, Kleeah, Tali and Jack were the first out. The family of four stared with wide eyed wonder at the Homeworld. Rael closed his eyes, feeling the loose earth shifting beneath his booted feet, then followed Kleeah and the girls to the edge of the cliff.

"Oh Keelah ..."

The Geth had been busy. Very busy. The Walled City was now a Quarian metropolis, elegant towers curved into gravity defying shapes, shining silver metals and sandy coloured rock blending together, occasionally shot through with the deep maroons and mauves of jovona blossom trees in full bloom. Juggernaut stepped up behind them and spoke in a muted voice.

"We are glad the Creators have returned home."

Rael turned to Juggernaut in disbelief.

"You made all this just for us?"

"For all Creators and Geth to live in peace. This city alone has a maximum population limit of forty million. Three secondary cities can each support another fifteen million. Total Creator population could increase by a factor of five before additional construction is required."

Rael didn't know what to think.

###

Wrex roared with laughter as Pasana shuddered and whimpered, mimicking the only Batarian she had ever met foolish enough to try and take her on.

"So then he suddenly flares up blue, going 'I will destroy you!' And I said 'Bite me, Elloruru. You couldn't destroy a pregnant Volus.' He sent a Throw at me which did absolutely nothing and then, and then ..."

She dissolved into helpless giggles again as Wrex downed the last of his Ryncol and slammed the mug down on the table.

"So what happened next?"

"I put my pincers around his neck, grabbed his manhood and asked which one he wanted me to squeeze!"

Wrex's laughs redoubled as the bartender hurried over with a refill of Ryncol.

"Look who decided to show up."

Wrex turned to face the newcomer, a scarred Human wearing blue and white armour. Pasana gave a shout of recognition.

"Zaeed!"

The Human sat down beside Pasana.

"So who's your friend?"

"Oh yeah. Zaeed, this is Wrex. I met him in the Pit, he kicked my ass. Wrex, this is Zaeed, an old buddy of mine with a job offer."

"Right you are. Here's what I got for you."

He pulled out a printed paper picture of an Asari with vivid green eyes and markings on her face.

"This is your target. We know two things about her. This picture, and that she is somewhere on this station. We have reason to believe she has some nasty, exotic biotic abilities, so assume dangerous. I want her alive and mostly intact. Keep it quiet, if the Blood Pack know we're after her they'll come after her too, just because they can. Pay is ten thousand platina each, one in advance, nine when the job's done."

"That's good money. We'll take it."

Wrex nodded his assent, then held up his hand.

"One more thing. Silver armour, blue eyes, half formed crest, big-ass hammer and almost the size of Pasana here. You know him?"

Zaeed frowned, his cybernetic eye clicking and whirring in his head.

"Standing at the entrance to the club?"

"That's right."

"He's one of Okeer's tin soldiers. They're tank bred somewhere in the Terminus, then sold to Garm's Blood Pack for dirt. They regenerate almost twice as quick as a normal Krogan and could probably bench press a Broadsword mech but they're brain dead. If the guy outside the club didn't have a Batarian chip in his head telling him what to do he'd just stand there until he starved to death."

"Yeesh. Sounds like a bad way to be."

"Tell me about it. Way I see it, every one of those we blow up is a kindness."

###

Wintergreen was a small, out of the way USA colony. Operative word being was. Now it was a sixty square mile crime scene.

"Tell me, what are we looking at?"

"Slaver attack. Batarian Hegemony and most of the Terminus Systems have slavery of some form. They often hit lightly defended colonies like this one, grab some aliens for a bit of variety in their slave markets."

"They just crossed the line."

###

The USA had requested a full Council meeting, including the representatives from all associate races as well. Tevos was there, as was Luceius with his arm in a sling, and Murtok, Drassa's replacement. Representatives from all the Earth bloc's seven powers were present as well.

Anita Goyle, the US ambassador, walked to the podium at the head of the meeting room.

"Councillors, ambassadors. I thank you all for your attendance at our conference. We have called this meeting to address a troubling issue that has recently arisen. One of our colonies, Wintergreen, was recently raided by slavers. Slavers who, thanks to the CIA, we discovered have sold on their merchandise to the Hegemony's slave markets. As of this minute there are US citizens being held by a foreign power. This is an act of war."

Silence in the Council chambers. Eventually Jath'Amon, the Batarian ambassador, raised his fist.

"I protest! You have no right to threaten the Hegemo ..."

"I'm not finished, warul. I present the following ultimatum to the Batarian Hegemony. You will return every unlawfully imprisoned US citizen in the Hegemony to their respective governments. Every slaver who has ever participated in an attack against the USA be handed over to said power for appropriate punishment. Until our demands are met we will raze your planets, one city at a time. We will come for you. We will not stop. Our fleets will darken your skies and we will watch you burn until every four eyed slaving sharachi in the galaxy is nothing more than an unpleasant smell. Our first target will be the city of Hatre on Camala. All slaves returned or in seven Terran days returning our people will seem like a small price to pay."

The Earth races used the period of shocked silence to continue ramping up the pressure.

"The Raachok Union supports your ultimatum."

"The USSR supports your ultimatum."

"Emaris supports your ultimatum."

"Haeli supports your ultimatum."

"Maraliu supports your ultimatum."

"Kesla supports your ultimatum."

Jath'Amon stood once more, truly livid.

"You cannot let them do this! Councillors, I demand you subdue these rogue states!"

Anita Goyle gave a mirthless chuckle at that.

"The Council was unwilling to go to war with a minor power for abducting our citizens for slave labour. I doubt they'll go to war with a major power for getting our people back."

"The Turian Hierarchy supports your ultimatum."

Suddenly every eye in the room was fixed on Luceius.

"Slavery is illegal under Citadel law. I feel shamed the Hierarchy waited this long before taking action. No more appeasement."

The Batarian ambassador roared in fury and gestured to the Asari councillor.

"Do something!"

Tevos just looked at him blankly. That was when he knew the Batarians no longer had a place for them on the Citadel.

###

"Ladies and gentlemen! A toast!"

The assembled Suns cheered raucously as Zaeed scrambled up onto the stage, the Asari, Human and Atavira strippers all fawning over him. SubHammer was one of Omega's many nightclubs, by far the largest apart from Afterlife and controlled by the Suns.

"To Anita Goyle. Fuck the four-eyes!"

The entire club raised their drinks and echoed his sentiments.

"Fuck the four-eyes!"

The club turned back to one another and started talking again, Zaeed giving one of the Atavira girls a kiss on the cheek before escaping the stage and watching the girls go back to their poles.

A Salarian merc walked up to him.

"General Massani? The Zorya base construction team have a report for you."

He took the proffered datapad and nodded in satisfaction. Construction of the Blue Suns HQ was coming along very nicely. It would start by dominating Omega. Then the Suns would spread and expand, absorbing some gangs and destroying others, until they were the sovereign government of the Terminus Systems. And when the hammer fell and the Suns lent their guns to the races of Earth, the Terminus would be theirs.

###

Liara ran. Arms pumping, legs flailing, every breath loud in her ears, swerving around some objects and careening into others as her damnable Prothean eyes failed her, trying to ignore the surge of borrowed emotion every time her toe touched the floor through the hole in her boot. She ran and the thing ran after her, eerily silent apart from the panting of its breath. She had left the cackling Krogan and hissing Vorcha behind but the thing kept coming after her, eating up the distance with long, loping strides, gaining ground every time her vision betrayed her and she bounced off a wall.

Finally she fell. Tripped over something, she couldn't see what. The thing grabbed her, flipping her over and pinning her down, holding her looking up at the silver blur as her Prothean enhanced hearing heard the ponderous approach of the Krogan that had sent whatever it was after her. She struggled, trying to worm free, and the silver thing shifted to better pin her down. A bare elbow touched one of the rips in her shirt, skin brushing against skin. She braced herself for the flow of emotion.

Nothing. Nothing save a spark of cold commanding. The silver blur was empty. A mech? No, she couldn't get feelings from inanimate objects. She was feeling a living thing's DNA, but empty. So she reversed the flow.

Emotions and thoughts poured into the empty creature, filling the dark spaces of the brain with warm light and banishing the emptiness, flowing back into her and around again in a positive feedback loop that overwhelmed the cold commands coming from the base of the skull, making them sputter and die. And in the flow an identity formed.

Weyrloc Kresh growled as the display on his Omnitool fritzed and the supersoldier froze in place before slowly turning his head to stare at Kresh.

"117, restrain the Asari."

117 didn't respond to the verbal command. Something was very, very wrong.

"117, shut down."

The override command to make the supersoldier fall asleep also failed to work.

"117, shut down!"

That time the supersoldier reacted. But not in the way Kresh intended. It stood up, towering a good four feet above Kresh.

"I."

He blinked in shock as the word left the supersoldier's mouth.

"Am."

The Vorcha with him panicked, dropping their weapons and fleeing as the supersoldier took a single step forwards.

"KROGAN!"

With a bellow of rage 117 charged, unslinging his hammer and surrounding it in a biotic field as his feet hammered against the ground. In three strides the hammer was swinging at Kresh's head.

Liara shrieked as the Krogan's head was obliterated, the mangled body spurting geysers of orange gore through the stress fractures in the armour as the now blood-spattered silver blur turned to her.

"You."

She squeaked in alarm and crawled crabwise backwards until she bumped into the wall. Suddenly a hand was round her neck, lifting her up, electric blue eyes examining her.

"Asari. Different. Alien eyes. I need a name."

"Li ... Liara."

He frowned at her, tilting her head to examine the green coloration at the tips of her crests.

"Not you. Me. I have a number. 117. It's not a name. What am I? Krogan, Supersoldier, Grunt ... Grunt was what Kresh called me. It has no meaning. It'll do. I am Grunt."

Liara's Prothean vision finally brought him into focus.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Who are you, weakling?"

Liara felt a surge of courage. If she was going to die, she would die fighting.

"Who I am isn't important. I've got half of Omega after me for some reason and I'm going to even the odds. You're with me or you're another number on the body count."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth Liara fought back a squeak. Where had that come from?

To her surprise, the Krogan laughed.

"Ha! I like you, Liara. I'll fight for you."

"Come again?"

###

XO Han'Gerrel vas Neema scrambled into the room as alarms blared throughout the ship. The Neema and the Penthanar were the prides of the Migrant Fleet, two defunct Turian dreadnoughts salvaged by the Quarians and repaired until they were fully functional again. Their main guns had safeguarded the Migrant Fleet and led the Heavy Fleet for almost seventy years now, and they were filling that role now.

"What's going on, Captain?"

"One unidentified contact, closing fast. Looks like it out masses us by a considerable margin."

He voiced what every watch stander on the bridge was fearing.

"Geth?"

"Unlikely. Look at the design."

He examined the image on the sensors. The design was unmistakeable. The ring shape with the long body behind it, a Quarian vessel. But the ship appeared sleek and smooth, a masterpiece of engineering when compared to the ancient, scrappy vessels of the Migrant Fleet.

"Sir, we're being hailed!"

"Put it up."

An image popped up on the screen of the unmasked back of a Quarian head, black braided hair falling down to the shoulders of the unknown Quarian as a gentle male voice spoke slowly, as if to a child.

"No Tali, Daddy's busy right now. I'm sure Mamma wants to play Privateers and Batarians with you though."

The man turned around and smiled laconically at the screen. Han, never having seen an unmasked Quarian face for more than five minutes at a time, had no idea what the expression meant.

"This is pilgrim Rael'Zorah nar Penthanar returning to the Migrant Fleet, wishing to present my Pilgrimage gift to the Admiralty Board."

There was silence on the bridge.

"Did you say Admiralty Board?"

Rael chuckled drily.

"Believe me, they're going to want to see this."

###

BREAKING NEWS: ULTIMATUM TO HEGEMONY 'RETURN OUR CITIZENS'

BATARIAN AMBASSADOR LEAVES CITADEL IN PROTEST

CAMALA NAMED AS FIRST TARGET

TURIAN COUNCILLOR: 'NO MORE APPEASEMENT'

REPORTS OF MASS CIVIL UNREST ON KHAR'SHAN, LOREK, ARATOHT AND CAMALA UNCONFIRMED

BATARIAN AMBASSADOR: 'HEGEMONY HAS BEEN ABANDONED TO IMPERIALIST USA'

ASARI REPUBLICS CONDEMN MAGNITUDE OF RESPONSE

Admiral Steven Hackett shut off the newsfeed and frowned. He had heard all about Ambassador Goyle's little stunt and had started gearing up the US Fifth Fleet for offensive operations against the Hegemony. For all their braggadocio the Batarians were a paper tiger, using noisy ambassadors and excessive aggression to conceal the fact that they only had the strength to fight wars through deniable terrorist actions, the vast majority of their military being employed to keep their own population in line.

"Hackett to Yorktown. Recall crew from liberty and prepare the fleet for combat operations."


	14. Peace (6)

A/N: Yes, Grunt being number 117 is a Master Chief reference. To those who caught it, good call. Additionally, to those who will undoubtedly call Mary Sue, the following curb-stompage is heavily reliant on the Batarians not having sufficient anti AI cyberdefences and would never work against a Council member.

###

The Batarian colony of Erszbat was one of their newer worlds, the population living almost entirely in a single city. For every free caste Batarian living on the world there were three slaves, mostly Batarian but with a handful of other species as well.

The Emaris Adjudicator-class light cruiser Maeoloa slipped into orbit above the colony, unleashing a barrage of Cauteriser thermal missiles that struck the Hensa class cruiser above the colony before it could even react. The colony's lone defender breaking apart and burning up in the atmosphere, the Maeoloa turned her turreted mass drivers on the colony.

Firing short bursts, the mass drivers spat golden ingots down at the colony in precise bombardment patterns. The military base was the first to go, eradicating the surface to orbit missile silo before the colony even realised it was under attack. The governmental headquarters was next, reinforced bunker no obstacle to relativistic impactors. The Hegemony's policy to make all their transport hubs military installations made the space port and central train station legitimate targets. Two more bursts took them out.

The only civilian targets hit were the power station and the slave exchange. The low square building of the slave exchange was hit with twice as many rounds as the other targets, killing eighty per cent of the slavers on the planet in a single blow. In the belching smoke and hellish fires left by the bombardment three things swiftly became apparent.

The soldiers were dead.

The governer was dead.

The slavers were dead.

As the Maeoloa set course for her anchorage at the Atavira colony of Meciu, Erszbat was consumed by the bloodiest slave uprising in Batarian history.

###

Khar'Shan had the most advanced defence grid available to the Batarians. A network of weapon satellites, sensors and ground based missile silos girdled the entire planet, making a fleet based attack supremely foolish. But not even the most advanced defence grid was impenetrable. An attacker just had to know how.

The sensor grid detected the meteors when they were five hours out, extrapolated their tracks, moved a single communication satellite out of the way and then disregarded them as a threat. The largest was barely sixty metres across. The sensor tech who monitored the alert checked their projected atmospheric transit path and called his wife and daughter, telling them to watch the sky for a light show in a few hours.

When they were forty four minutes out from the planet's atmosphere tiny thrusters fired up, slowly angling them towards their intended target. At seventeen minutes out the power systems inside the 'meteors' started powering up. At eight minutes out the 680 MJ/sec proton beams concealed in the meteors fired.

Eighteen proton beams lanced out, converging on the Hegemony Navy's orbital dockyard. The structure didn't have kinetic barriers, allowing the proton beams to wildly slash through dry docked ships and military headquarters complexes. The kilometres long structure was torn apart by the beams, the tumbling weapon tracks concealing the precision with which they intersected key structural points and allowed centripetal force to finish what the meteor weapons started.

At seven minutes out the defence grid tagged the meteors as a threat and turned six missile satellites towards them. The missiles easily locked onto the incoming rocks and fired, punching out from their satellites.

At six minutes out, with the missiles still twenty seconds away, the explosive charges in the meteors exploded, shattering the weapons into hundreds of fragments of rock and metal.

At one minute away from the atmospheric limit the clouds of shrapnel intersected the 35,000 km mark, the height at which the majority of the Khar'Shan defence grid satellites orbited. At that point the shrapnel clouds had a radius of almost one hundred kilometres, gouging a hole through the defence grid that took out four weapons and two communication satellites.

A Batarian woman balanced her little girl on her knee, the two of them oohing and aahing as the shrapnel painted trails of fire through the atmosphere.

###

The vast majority of the Batarian fleet was currently gathered above Camala, awaiting the US raiding fleet. Their weapons were loaded, their kinetic barriers were up and they were in full combat formation.

The Earth races had AIs specifically created to prevent other AIs from infiltrating their networks. The Seu'Seun used organic computers incompatible with electronically coded AIs. The Council had their recently designed SAPIENS anti-AI firewalls. The Hegemony did not have any of these. Which meant that a single AI attack crippled their entire fleet.

Weapons and barriers powered down, engines dead in the water, life support, lights and heating all off, the Batarian Navy was paralysed within seconds. After that, a single Roosevelt-class assault carrier was able to destroy the entire fleet with its complement of Pyro and Vortex strike craft, tearing them apart with the nuclear fire of Avalanche missiles. It took around thirty minutes for the pilots to ensure every single ship in the Batarian main fleet was unsalvageable.

###

Zaeed Massani loved his guns. The General of the Blue Suns had an entire wall in his stateroom on the Blue Suns HQ ship dedicated to them. He owned hundreds of guns, some of them the latest in Earth tech lethality, others taken as trophies from the dead hands of their owners. But for Zaeed, pride of place would always go to Jessie.

Jessie was a beauty of a gun. At her basic level she was a M96H SAW "Blitz", one of the many variants of the Mattock assault rifle used by almost every Earth power, but she had been modded almost beyond recognition. She fired high explosive rounds, a massively extended frame accommodating

155 millimetre heat sinks and allowing for forty rounds fired fully automatically before the heat sink needed changing but resulting in the rifle being half again as large as a standard Mattock. She had a set of custom holographic sights and a laser targeter salvaged from an SN7 heavy pistol, allowing for almost pinpoint accuracy at long range, and her secondary barrel was a surprisingly powerful light shotgun that could fire quickly, dealing heavy damage at close range with sledgehammer rounds. She had an Omniblade bayonet he could deploy with a touch of a button and a custom tooled Salarian made eezo shock absorber in the stock that allowed him to fire fully automatic with semi automatic accuracy, although that one component had cost almost as much as the rest of Jessie combined. Unlike the usual white coloration of Suns weapons she was pale grey, originally designed for urban warfare. He had first got hold of her back when he was a green private stuffed in a lander and sent into the meat grinder of mass attritional warfare on the barren industrial dust bowl of Seu'Tseuma, invaded during the latter part of the Seu'Seun war. Zaeed had gone into that battle straight out of the training camps, a fresh faced seventeen year old private with zero experience, a false Hollywood glamorisation of war and a crush on his sergeant, Jessie Westman. He had left the battle three years later as a scarred veteran captain, borne up through the ranks by countless field promotions, one of only thirty six Americans landed during the initial assault left alive on the planet and promoted constantly for two reasons: being the best at killing Seu'Seun on the planet and officers being shot, blown up or eaten faster than they could be replaced. And all that remained of his crush, and later lover, was a single rifle taken from her cold dead hands. His Jessie.

He had other guns as well. An enormous Jackal automatic shotgun, an anti-material rifle almost as long as him, even a flamethrower pried from the grasp of a Blood Pack Krogan with Zaeed's knife through his brain. None he lavished as much care and attention on as Jessie.

"General Massani? Your squad is ready."

He grunted in acknowledgement and gently lifted Jessie off the rack on the wall, stroking a hand along her barrel before collapsing her and slinging her on the back of his armour. He may be a self styled general now but Zaeed was in his heart a soldier. Every once in a while he would lead an operation just to keep his skills sharp. No point getting sloppy after all, and Jessie needed the exercise.

"Come on girl. Time to have a workout."

###

Councillor Murtok looked at the data presented by the STG units charged with monitoring the Hegemony and let out an impressed whistle.

"An impressive display. Hegemony military capability reduced by destruction of main fleet, remainder tied up dealing with slave rebellions throughout territory. Hegemony effectively destabilised, turning own culture against them - ingenious. Wonder if demands will be met now. Logical step, but Batarian arrogance and stubbornness notorious."

###

The Extranet was a wonderful thing, Liara mused as she watched Grunt. The wealth of information combined with the engineered superkrogan's supremely malleable brain allowed him to absorb information at a staggering rate, and the nascent neural links were like a drug to him. He had already memorised technical specs and user's manuals for every firearm in existence, entire treatises on tactics from every race in the galaxy and four martial arts, which he combined into his own unique style of fighting she had seen him practicing on a couple of unfortunate would be muggers. With the protection of her enormous silver guardian Liara had been able to focus less on surviving and more on taming her eyesight. She had more or less figured out how her eyes were working, developing her ability to the point where she was able to focus on up to four objects at once, and had figured out that the green and purple overlays were visual aids for using her new biotic powers. She had also managed to tame her unstable biotics somewhat - although she was yet to replicate her feat of dehydrating those Batarian slavers she had managed to execute a basic biotic pull that seemed to have a minor warping effect associated to it, something she was distinctly proud of, and Grunt had acquired an Omnitool for her with a couple of basic programs, namely a hacking and lock bypass program, a factory standard Overload and one definitely uncommon one, a Neural Shock program. Grunt had been particularly pleased with that one. "I'd like to see someone shoot us when their nerves are on fire", he had said.

Grunt paused from his extranet mining session and looked up, sniffing the air.

"Someone's coming."

Biting back a curse, Liara pulled her hood over her head and ducked behind a support column as Grunt's voice growled in her ear over their Omnitool comm link.

"Eclipse. Two Engineers, two Vanguards, four troopers, two heavies and a heavy mech. Wait for them to pass."

The thin, reedy voice of a Salarian giving orders sends that plan to hell.

"That Asari bitch the Suns are after is around here somewhere. Spread out and search the warehouse."

She froze in place, nearing panic as the Eclipse mercs started sweeping through the warehouse using a military search pattern. They were going to discover her, and she didn't like her chances against that many opponents.

"Liara. When I give the word, pull the two heavies and use your neural shock on the nearest Vanguard."

Reassured by the rumbling voice she replied with her assent and primed her Omnitool, feeling the tingle of biotics in her other hand.

The first clue Eclipse had that something was wrong was when Grunt dropped from the ceiling, swinging a biotically charged hammer at the YMIR mech's head. The blow crushed the YMIR's optics and powered downwards into the CPU concealed in the mech's chest.

"Now!"

Assuming that was the signal, Liara popped up and waved her hands, the snap-hiss of Prothean biotics yanking the two rocket launcher toting Eclipse mercs off the ground and slowly cracking their armour as the warping effect stripped away their defences. Before the Eclipse could even react to the second assailant she had fired off her Neural Shock at the nearest Vanguard. The Asari fell to the ground, howling in agony as the focused electrochemical impulse bypassed her biotic barrier and set her nerves into overdrive, conflicting pain signals coursing through her body and obliterating all rational thought. As the mercs finally reacted to Liara's presence Grunt opened up with his heavy machine gun, ripping apart the two weakened, levitating heavies before turning it on the Engineers who returned fire with pistols and Incinerate tech that splashed harmlessly off his kinetic barriers. The sub-standard shields of the Eclipse engineers didn't last long against the withering firepower brought to bear by Grunt, who chuckled as the bullets shredded their tiny Salarian bodies. Liara felt another surge of biotic power and pounced on it, shaping it into a pull/warp and throwing it at the other Vanguard, warping her barrier and picking her up into the air in one move as her Omnitool came up, neural shocking another one of the foot soldiers as Grunt smashed the other three aside with a single sweep of his hammer.

Liara gestured to the two twitching Eclipse mercs on the floor, an Asari and a Batarian male.

"What should we do with these?"

Grunt grabbed the Batarian by the ankles and smashed him against the wall a couple of times.

"Strip the Asari's armour and put it on. You'll attract less attention in Eclipse armour. Then we find out what she knows."

Grunt retrieved a long, serrated knife from one of the dead bodies as it floated serenely past his head and handed it to her.

"You up for a little torture?"

"Sure."

Omega really changed people.

###

A/N: I am currently planning a couple of spin off stories for after this fic is finished (don't worry, we're not even close to the end). At the moment I have two ideas: Zaeed during the Seu'Tseuma campaign and Rael during his time with the Privateers. If anyone else has any other ideas please let me know in a review.


	15. Peace (7)

"Jesus Christ."

Pasana uttered the very Human phrase as she and Wrex looked at the corpse. She had been staked out naked in the middle of the alley, held spread eagled on her back by what looked like rivets hammered through her wrists and ankles. Whoever had done this to her had gouged out her eyes, blinding her. But that wasn't the worst of it.

By examining the wide, shallow knife wounds covering the Asari's limbs and abdomen and combining them with the flecks of blue in the puddle of vomit she was lying in, it swiftly became apparent that somebody had cut off strips of her skin and force fed them to her.

Ignoring the mixture of blood and vomit, and the more recent Vorcha nibble marks, Wrex examined the body with the dispassionate eyes of somebody who had seen far worse.

"Eclipse merc. Most likely tortured for intel. Dead six hours tops."

Pasana nodded her head.

"Witness said it was an Asari using green biotics and one of those Blood Pack mutts. Our girl."

He chuckled.

"We're close."

###

The door chimed and Garrus barrelled down the stairs, limbs flailing just a tad too haphazardly to be safe. At the age of eleven he had just entered a growth spurt, appearing gangly and thin as his rate of growth outstripped the speed at which his musculature and carapace could bulk him out. Nevertheless he used his newly elongated limbs to power down the stairs three at a time, almost hyperactively excited as he careened into the door control.

The door hummed open to reveal two hooded figures on the doorstep, long garments concealing their features.

"Uhh ... Who are you?"

The smaller hooded figure spoke up.

"It's us, dummy. Can we come in?"

The figures stepped inside and shed their cloaks, revealing themselves to be Ayi and Lizzie.

"Hey Garrus."

He grinned at her and lightly bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Hey Lizzie. Why are you wearing those big cloaks?"

Ayi replied as she biotically floated Lizzie's suitcase in through the door.

"They're radiation cloaks. Stops your sun from barbecuing us squishy Atavira and Humans. No carapaces, see."

She then turned to Lizzie.

"Have you got everything?"

"Yes."

"Toothbrush and soap?"

"Yes."

"Enough changes of underwear?"

"Ayi ..."

"Okay, I'm going. See you in a week. Have fun."

The Atavira pulled on her cloak again and disappeared into the sun, leaving Lizzie standing in the entry hall with her suitcase.

"Mom and Sol will be home in an hour or so. Do you need help with your case?"

She shook her head.

"I've got it. Wow, your house is really cool."

He beamed at her and waved a talon.

"Here, let me show you around."

###

Alan and Gladian wormed their way through the Citadel's densely populated data network, Gladian absorbing code with amazement.

"Wow! There's just so many of us! Hey, that's Mel, hi Mel, and is that a Geth?"

Alan chuckled at Gladian's immediate excitement as they moved through the hub of the now pan galactic AI network. He wondered how long Gladian would stay as a kid in a candy store when he saw the cold code.

###

Zaeed took the proffered Sharp from the Blue Suns sniper and peered down the scope, ignoring the Salarian's exasperated snort as he adjusted the sights slightly. Snipers always got mad when he messed with their scopes.

He inhaled, then slowly blew out the breath as the crosshairs centred on the Vorcha Pyro's back mounted fuel tank. His finger tightened on the trigger as he nudged his aim down a fraction, then squeezed.

The silenced M96S DMR spat out a single tungsten shard, the bullet propelled at hypersonic speeds right into the unfortunate Vorcha's flame tank. The poor bastard detonated, flaming fuel and singed flesh spattering across the street. Zaeed snorted in amusement and passed the gun along to the next member of the group.

"I wonder when the Vorcha are going to figure out we're behind them."

The Turian woman currently holding the Sharp chuckled as she adjusted the scope mount, making the Salarian squawk in dismay.

"Probably when we all stand up waving flags and dancing the Thessia Twist."

Her shot took the head off a Vorcha Boom-squad and she passed the gun along to Jentha, who flicked one of her deep maroon bangs out of her face before shooting a throat out and passing the rifle back along the line to the Salarian marksman.

"Okay. This round, you have to sing a verse of your anthem before you take the shot."

###

The Batarian freighter arrived in orbit around the American colony of Paranus, its cargo hold containing three hundred US citizens and one hundred Batarian slavers in manacles. Too late. The Hegemony had been certain the Americans were bluffing and they had lost their gamble.

Even as the grovelling captain handed over the ex-slaves and the prisoners CIA and KGB agents hidden throughout Hegemony space moved on to the next phase of the plan. Rebellious slaves suddenly found themselves armed with top quality Volus made weapons, armour and communication equipment. Nobody could prove who supplied the weapons and supplies - after all, the Volus would sell to just about anyone - but nevertheless the result was spectacular.

With their navy gone and their army paralysed the Hegemony was finding out exactly what happens when the guy you shat on all your life gets a gun.

What the rebels lacked in training they made up for in equipment, numbers and dedication. With KGB agents rapidly training a core of tactically and strategically savvy rebel commanders, the initial attacks were co-ordinated by the advanced comm system and jammers available to the rebels, allowing them to co-ordinate their attacks on a planetary scale whereas the Hegemony's comm system was compromised by the jammers, allowing the rebels to listen to, block and even edit orders sent by the army's commanders. The Batarian Civil War was now in full swing.

###

The viciously serrated blade swung at his head, forcing him to duck and move right into the path of a savage double-footed kick. He flew across the room, smacking against the wall and sliding down to the ground.

PLAYER 2 WINS

"Oh, come on! I had you on ten per cent health!"

Garrus chuckled as Lizzie scowled at the game controller in disgust.

"It's because the controller is designed for Turians."

"Sure ..." Garrus drew out the word, relishing every letter as he loaded up the next match, selecting the Salarian Shadow Assassin as his character. "Think you can beat me this time?"

She scrolled through the available characters, eventually settling on the Atavira Forest Commando. Convenient then that the next map was a forest.

###

"Dadda! Dadda!"

Rael picked up Tali, who was reaching imperiously up at him, and set her on his shoulders, much to her delight.

"Dadda! Lunch!"

"You had breakfast an hour ago."

"Hungy!"

"You should have eaten your breakfast then."

"Daddaaaaa!"

"Wait for another couple of hours. Maybe tomorrow you'll remember to eat more of your breakfast."

Tali tugged on his ears and pointed out what was, in her three year old mind, a profound injustice.

"Jack has biscuits."

Rael sighed and plucked his daughter off his shoulders. He had already had this discussion with her several times.

"That's because Jack is a biotic. She can't eat the same food as us and she needs to eat more food than us too, so we give her biscuits."

Tali pouted at him.

"She special."

He sighed and stroked her hair.

"Not special. Just different."

She frowned and poked at his arm with a slender finger.

"She special. She play outside no suit."

"Yes, but the Geth doctors say soon everyone will be able to go outside without suits, at least on Rannoch."

"She funny colour and smell funny."

"Don't say mean things like that, Tali."

There was a long pause.

"Sorry Dadda."

###

Garrus turned the music up louder, the martial rattling of the drums not quite managing to drown out the epic shouting match in the house's atrium. On the hammock slung in the corner, Lizzie looked at the door with wide eyes as Garrus shut off the music player, growling in frustration.

"What's going on?"

He glanced over at her and threw himself down on his bed.

"Dad and Sol have really been snapping each other's spurs these past couple of weeks, ever since they found out Sol has a girlfriend."

"What's so bad about that?"

"The girlfriend part. You know, because Sol is also a girl."

Her eyes flicked to the side momentarily, a little nervous habit of hers whenever she was thinking about something.

"So what? Your dad isn't okay with her being gay?"

"It's not that, it's more that the law isn't okay with it."

"What?"

He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow.

"It's the law that a Turian can only marry another Turian of the opposite gender, and on Turian planets people don't like it when they have gay or xeno couples. That's why all the Turians who lean that way end up on the Citadel. It's all about being a good Turian, producing children and all that."

"That's stupid. People should be able to marry who they love, no matter who they are."

"I think so too. The problem is Dad doesn't see it that way, and he's got a point. I heard gays get bullied really bad in boot camp and in the army but Sol wants really bad to be a combat medic like Mum."

"Um, does she specifically want to be a combat medic in the Turian Army? Because I just had an idea."


	16. Peace (8)

The Batarian Hegemony had dissolved into a state of open warfare. Fringe worlds like Erzsbat and Aratoht had fallen to the rebels very quickly, now being used as bases from which the rebel faction, now renamed the Free Batarian Army, were training their slaves into urban commandoes and sending them to the savagely contested planets of Camala and Lorek. Only on Khar'Shan had the Hegemony retained control, destroying any nascent rebellion with extreme prejudice.

To say the Asari were not happy with the state of affairs would be a monumental understatement. A side effect of a thousand year lifespan is that the Asari were slow to adapt to change, unwilling to accept any shift in the status quo. And although the Asari weren't particularly sad to see the Batarians obliterated the ruthless efficiency with which their empire was deconstructed caused a massive plummet in Earth/Asari relations.

Councillor Luceius was swiftly becoming annoyed by Tevos and Murtok. The Asari was barely bothering to conceal her anti-Earthism and the Salarian was simply sitting there agreeing with everything she said. Not for the first time, Luceius found himself cursing whatever spirit had possessed him to go into politics.

###

"So ... what are you wearing?"

Lizzie looked self-consciously down at her attire. She was, in fact, wearing a skintight anti-radiation bodysuit with a hood and a harness over her torso containing a radiation shield.

"Uh ... radiation suit."

"Okay. Umm ... looks good."

"Right."

The door opened and Carissa stepped in, towels rolled up under her arms.

"You ready to go?"

Beaches on Palaven were quite different to beaches on Earth. The shallow tropical seas were glassy smooth, the rock ground down into fine white sand by the action of the vicious wind storms that often whipped across Palaven's surface. The beach sloped incredibly shallow, the sea still only waist deep up to half a kilometre away from the shore, and most importantly the water was fresh.

Carissa set up the umbrella and her deck chair as Garrus and Lizzie made a beeline for the gaggle of Turian youths at the water's edge. Both male and female Turians wore nothing but baggy shorts when on the beach, most in the bright primary colours of Turian fashion, interspersed with Salarian fractal designs, Asari vapour art or Human floral patterns. In her anti-radiation bodysuit Lizzie stuck out like a sore thumb.

Garrus exchanged wrist grips with the other Turian kids before introducing them to Lizzie.

"Hey everyone, this is Lizzie. Lizzie, this is Taranius, Linnael, Melanis, Valadria and Amirah."

Lizzie looked at the four Turian youths. Taranius towered over everyone else, his plates a rich earthy colour under his white colony markings, a long stripe from the centre of his upper lip right along to the tip of his central fringe and two more stripes along his mandibles. Linnael was slightly smaller than Garrus and surprisingly thin for a Turian, his plates a sandy beige colour laid over with deep ochre triangular markings along his upper jaw and dull red eyes. Melanis and Valadria were near identical, looking to Lizzie like twin sisters, steel grey plates and electric blue eyes with the same markings as Garrus. Amirah looked downright scary. She had a two tone body, the left side bearing bone white plates while the right side bore midnight black. Lizzie couldn't tell which colour was natural and which one was her clan markings. From within her face two bright yellow eyes burned like miniature suns.

Garrus's friends crowded around her, all seeming to enjoy the curiosity of a Human in their midst. Lizzie, to her credit, handled the situation admirably.

"Hey, anyone want to go for a swim?"

Garrus and Lizzie waded out until the water was deep enough for Lizzie to dive in, the other Turians watching with interest as she slid through the water.

It turned out that Humans and Turians had very different ideas of what constituted a day at the beach. Lizzie engaged in several rounds of wrestling in the ankle deep water with Garrus and his friends and then engaged in a spot of target shooting with practice rifles, in return drawing a crowd of around forty amazed Turians when she started skipping stones.

###

The megalopolis of Vancouver was a very dangerous place for those who ventured to the lower levels. The city was structured very similar to most major Human settlements: a lattice of foundation rigs with prefabs haphazardly shoehorned into the gaps supporting the cluster of arcology towers that were the city proper. The foundations of the city though, that hundred metre gap between the dusty lifeless ground and the baseplate of the city - they were the slums.

Miranda wrapped the sack tighter around herself and shivered in the cold air as it whistled past the wide beam she was curled up on. Three months ago she would have been utterly revolted by the conditions. Since her father's arrest being caked in grime and smelling like a sewer had been ingrained into her mind so much she didn't even notice anymore.

Hunger and exhaustion warred in her body for control. She was utterly wiped out after spending most of the day fleeing the Reds through the forest of beams and cables, but she hadn't eaten in three days. The Reds were the biggest gang down in the Foundation, the Jacks, Shadows and Sliders only able to oppose them on one of the rare instances they were able to co-operate.

Miranda huddled deeper into her sacking blanket, shivering in the biting breeze. This was not how her life was supposed to be.

###

Morinth walked like an automaton. It was almost funny how the Human claimed he was 'employing her as an escort'. The scars at the back of her neck and between her crests showed how false that claim was. She was nothing more than a walking weapon, a slave disguised as an assassin disguised as a pleasure girl for the rich Humans of Bekenstein. She would seduce her target, meld with them and destroy their nervous systems, then return to her masters like a good pet until the next time her unique skillset was needed.

She reached the designated meeting point and sat down on the floor, skimpy 'exotic' slutkini scuffing in the dirt. Any minute now.

A surge of pain blasted through her head, making her curl up on the ground and howl in agony. She felt rough hands on her arms yanking her up, then she was thrown into the back of a truck and roughly stripped before being forced into a skintight white bodysuit with metal bands around the upper arms. She finally managed to force her eyes open just in time to see the man with the hated orange split hexagon logo on his chest tapping something on his Omnitool.

"Nighty night Morinth."

Cables snaked round her body, plugging into the metal bands as cuffs snapped around her wrists, ankles and neck. She watched with mounting detachment as the violet blood was drained from her body through the left arm, replaced by cryo fluid through the right. Then her vision clouded and blanked.

###

Justicar Samara prided herself on her self-control. She had needed it many a time during her quest, to survive a tense negotiation, complete a heated interrogation or simply to avoid turning a lecherous Turian into the kind of slop they gave Quarians at the vagrant's shelter. So when she was close to tears something catastrophic must have occurred.

The once beautiful Ardat Yakshi monastery on Lessus had been reduced to scorched rubble by the commando attack. She had already gathered half a dozen accounts of what happened, each one varying wildly but for three key points.

1. The commandoes were all Human.

2. The commandoes used gas bombs to blind and disorient the residents of the monastery.

3. They stormed the building and captured several of the Ardat Yakshi, seemingly selected at random. Including Rila and Falere.

Justicar Phora came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry for your loss, Samara."

###

The red plated Krogan roared as Liara's pull-warp splashed against his biotic barrier, flinging his own blistering flurry of biotic attacks that she barely managed to avoid. Like their wielder the biotic attacks were brutish and inelegant yet fast and powerful. Over to one side, Grunt was engaged with one of the largest Seu'Seun she had ever seen, both wrestling for control of the insect's triple barrelled shotgun. The shotgun roared in their grasp, gouging three furrows in the floor and drawing Liara's attention. She didn't see the red armoured fist flying at her head until it was too late.

###

"Admiral Kerensky."

"Admiral Vargas. May I introduce Admiral Hackett of the US Navy, Admiral Bholien of the Union Armada and Admiral Farlu of the Emaris War Fleet."

The Turian nodded at his counterparts as they all sat at the conference table.

"Alan has completed his report on the Hierarchy's Gladian pattern AI and determined the fails age programming to be sufficient for your needs. Given the exceptionally positive state of diplomatic relations between our governments and the Turian Hierarchy, this Admiralty Board has decided in favour of offering the Hierarchy a signature on the Hyper-Relativistic Technology Pact."

Vargas couldn't quite believe it. The Earth bloc had approved their AI and permitted them to have access to HR motors and proton tech. He resisted the urge to jump for joy.

A/N: This chapter was very hard to hash out and I apologise for my writer's block.


	17. Peace (9)

A/N: This is the last chapter in the Peace arc. Next chapter will see the beginning of the Innocence Lost arc, set in 2171. I know there will be many plot points unresolved in this arc, most of them will carry on into Innocence Lost.

I can confirm there will be a total of at least six parts to this story, the last of which will be significantly longer than the others and may be split into two or more arcs depending on whether or not I decide to time jump. A summary:

1. Defiance (2157)

2. Peace (2165)

3. Innocence Lost (2171)

4. Reapers (2177)

5. Schism (2180)

6. War (2183)

###

"Wakey wakey."

Liara's eyes snapped open, her tenacious control over her vision failing her and the world once again a shapeless mass as her hypersensitive hearing was assailed by the myriad sounds she had become accustomed to blocking out. Her head reeled from the sensory overload as she tried to sort through the raw data pouring through her senses.

She felt a surge of relief as the now familiar green biotic overlay appeared in her vision, the blur filled with the flickering outlines of the objects in the room. The relief quickly shifted to alarm as the green was replaced by sickly yellow. That had never happened before. Through a monumental force of will she banished the overlay and focused her eyes, quickly skimming through and memorising the objects in the room.

She was cuffed to a chair in the middle of a large room, pulsing blue objects on her palms and forehead, what she assumed were biotic inhibitors and the cause of the yellow overlay. Set up about four metres in front of her was an automatic turret, one she recognised as a Blue Suns model, six barrelled chaingun spinning as it pointed directly at her head. As well as the turret there were seven Suns in the room with her - a Salarian engineer, two biotic specialists, one Atavira and one Human, three assault specialists, two Raachok and a Seu'Seun. It was the seventh Sun that caught her attention though. A scarred Human mercenary captain holding an insanely customised Blitz LMG, a cigar clamped between his chops. She instantly recognised him despite never having met him in person.

Zaeed Massani.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?"

The Human biotic was doing the talking as Massani just watched, puffing away on his cigar. She addressed the merc leader as she replied.

"Why am I here?"

"We have some questions for you."

She stared at the biotic for a moment then turned her attention back to Zaeed.

"Where's Grunt?"

"Who?"

"My Krogan friend."

The biotic frowned at her.

"Yes, about that. How did you acquire a Superkrogan? It talks and has a sound grasp of tactics, perhaps a new model?"

"I freed him. Now where is he?"

"Answer the question."

"Not until you answer mine."

The biotic flared up a corona of dark energy, speaking through clenched teeth.

"That's not how this process works, little girl."

Liara wasn't quite sure how she did it. One moment she was locked into an interrogation chair, the next she was flying through the air, one hand wrapped around the arrogant Human's neck as he clawed at her arm. Not pausing to ponder her newfound ability, she slammed the merc into the wall, denting it with the force of the impact.

"You're good."

She hadn't even noticed Massani right behind her. His punch struck the vulnerable nerve cluster in the small of her back, making her muscles instantly tense up. The second punch clocked her in the amp jack at the base of her skull, throwing her biotics into disarray, and the third one slammed into her temple, knocking her to the floor and dazing her.

"I like you. So listen up. You're either an asset or a threat, your pet too. Which is it going to be?"

She regained enough sense to roll on her back and look up at the merc general.

"Are you offering me a job?"

###

The female Turian slipped out of the shadows, alighting on the bench beside Solana and pulling her hood down to reveal a familiar red-painted face.

"Hey Sol."

She leaned over and nipped Solana on the neck, making heat flush through her even as she turned to reciprocate.

"Hey Nyreen. Listen, I've been thinking about the military, our term of service."

Nyreen sighed and pulled away from the half-embrace they were sharing.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to think about that yet."

Undeterred, Solana pressed on.

"I think I've found a solution."

"What?"

She brought up something on her Omnitool.

"Here. This is the application form for an exchange program between the Hierarchy and American special forces. It's an experimental unit composed of Turian recruits trained as US SEALs. We would serve our term as part of the US military then have dual Hierarchy/American citizenship."

Nyreen peered at the information on the Omnitool.

"What about biotics?"

"Says here they're looking for biotics too. Apparently Earth bloc militaries usually integrate their biotics into their units instead of segregating them like us or the Salarians."

Nyreen looked sideways at her girlfriend.

"I still don't know about it ..."

"Just take some time to think about it."

###

Thunawurona clomped slowly into Citadel Control, making the Salarian on duty look up at her ponderous approach.

"Ah, Thunawurona, good you're here. Shift change twelve minutes ago."

"Annoyed: My skycar is in the repair shop. With great vexation: The elevator is very slow. Sarcastically: I could have walked quicker on three legs. Apologetically: Sorry for the delay."

By the time she had finished her monologue the Salarian's skycar was already disappearing into the bustle of Tayseri ward's traffic.

"This one is pleased to greet Thunawurona."

"Glad you're here. That *ksst* Sur'Kesh-clan is such a *ksst* inside trader it's *ksst* unbelievable."

"Casually: Greetings, Holhool and Farkha."

Farkha chuckled and waddled over to a console on the opposite wall, carrying his stepping stool with him.

"We sound like a *ksst* joke. A Vol-clan, a Dekuuna-clan and a *ksst* Kahje-clan walk into a bar."

"This one is sorry to inform Farkha Fors that the Enkindlers did not create the Hanar with the ability to walk."

"Friendly tease: In your case roll would be a more appropriate adjective."

"*ksst* Bah. Try to make a *ksst* humorous comment ..."

"This one respectfully wishes for silence. A new vessel is requesting a direct link."

"Curiously: Who is it?"

The three mismatched aliens gathered around a comm screen to listen to the transmission.

"This is the Rannochian dreadnought Omboro requesting docking accommodation be made for an audience with the Citadel Council."

"Confused: Huh?"

###

The first indication that something interesting was happening was when a very large dreadnought appeared outside the Citadel. The second indication was the heavily armed and armoured shuttle that delivered a Quarian in an ornate exosuit to the Presidium.

Councillor Luceius looked at the Quarian standing before the Council, his stance one of casual nonchalance before the three most powerful individuals in the galaxy. He had heard the mutterings of the other two about the possible reason for the meeting but he had already figured it out. He had recognised the rifle slung on the man's back as one of the many Mattock variants favoured by the Earth bloc and seen the HR motors on the dreadnought. The Quarians had aligned with the Earth bloc and this was a courtesy call.

###

Aåstrīūt was a stone worker. It was his role in society to shape the great lithoships that soared through the Holy Kingdom, spreading the Word to the ten planets. He worked the stone as part of the Stonemason's Chapter. Then the Sailor's Chapter took their works and used them to transport the Warrior's Chapter to bring new worlds under their heel, then the Prophet's Chapter to consecrate them to the Word. Then the Stonemasons would come and shape the world to the whims of the Word, and the process would continue.

At the moment he was working on a cutter, the sleek stone shell designed to transport a single Prophet to a far off world. The Ruling Chapter had seen several possible targets for conversion. One was a fragmented people, torn apart from the inside by rebels and spies. One was an angry people, trapped on their world. One was a weak minded people, primitive and malleable. The last was a bitter people, at the mercy of those that defeated them. Those were their targets. And soon they would bow to the Word.

Eventually everyone did.


	18. Innocence Lost (1)

PART 3: INNOCENCE LOST (2171)

"In position."

Each four-strong fire team stacked up outside a different set of doors.

"Check. On my mark."

The four members of Slipstream squad clutched their weapons in clawed talons.

"Breach in three, two, one ..."

The heavily armed soldiers aimed, pointing two Mattock-Tens, a Blitz and a Radiance at the door.

"Breach!"

The door smashed into fragments as the breaching charge detonated, a cluster of shrapnel scything through the poorly prepared occupants as the SEALs followed their makeshift frag blast into the room. Biotics flared up as the terrorists reacted to the unexpected attack, their actions clumsy and disorganised compared to the brutal efficiency of the elite soldiers. The heavy didn't fire his LMG, conserving ammo, instead using the underslung light shotgun to great effect. One of the Asari terrorists was caught with her barrier down, the shot tearing through her chest and spraying violet gore across the wall. The biotic specialist leaped into the air, a foot shrouded in dark energy lashing out in a flying kick that caught another of the terrorists in the throat, snapping her neck instantly. The assault specialist switched out his Ten for a Hyena assault shotgun, the weapon letting out a deep reverberating boom that took down a biotic barrier, allowing his combat knife to penetrate her skull in the weak point between two of her crests, killing her instantly.

The last terrorist reacted quicker than expected, spinning on her heel. An Overload stripped the assault specialist of his shields, then a Warp hit him full in the chest. A burst from the heavy's LMG put her down even as the medic hurried over to her fallen comrade.

"Shit! Vakarian, is he going to be okay?"

Sergeant Solana Vakarian propped him up into a sitting position and examined the wound. A biotic warp attack was an attack designed to kill. Surviving one was as much a matter of luck as of skill. Solana sported a set of curving bluish scars on her left hip from where she was hit by a glancing blow from a Warp a couple of years ago.

"Think so. Attack was off centre, most of the field passed him. Kandros, help me get his armour off."

The biotic specialist, Nyreen Kandros, knelt down and helped her remove the chest plate and left pauldron as the heavy pressed a finger to his comm built into his Omnitool.

"This is Slipstream, we have a mike delta, repeat one mike delta. Attempting field treatment."

The armour came off with a clang as Solana retrieved a regeneration spray module from her armour's grenade harness. Biting the cap off, she held it about ten centimetres from the stricken Turian's skin, spraying the cool blue fluid all over the wounded area.

"Medkits fix everything, calm down."

The assault specialist opened his eyes as his breathing slowed down to a more acceptable pace.

"Thanks Doc."

"Anytime. Looks like that's going to scar up nicely. The Krogan babes will be all over you."

The assault hissed as he gingerly probed his shoulder.

"Do medkits fix getting crushed to death by a lizard?"

She chuckled and hauled the assault up.

"On your feet, soldier. Armour up."

A minute later they were moving again.

"Try not to get shot there. The warp screwed up your armour."

"Copy that, Doc. Don't get shot, sound advice."

"Comedian."

The heavy contacted the other two fire teams.

"This is Slipstream team. Back en route, three minutes behind schedule. Compensating."

"Copy that, Slipstream. Gambit team also delayed, Eagle team holding."

Solana swapped her Ten for her TCN4, the submachine gun's punishing rate of fire better suited to indoor combat. Beside her she noticed Nyreen also swapping to her SMG as the assault checked over his shotgun.

"Ready to proceed."

The next three rooms were already clear, showing signs of hasty abandonment.

"Terrorists must've pulled back to protect their hostage. No sign of traps or bombs. Move up."

The fire team quickly made their way to the door and stacked up, readying their weapons. The heavy and the assault specialist were taking point, LMG and shotgun ready to devastate the room beyond.

"Slipstream in position."

"Gambit in position."

"Eagle in position. About time you guys got here."

"Breaching in three, two, one. Breach."

The door whooshed open, simultaneous weapon reports sounding out and smashing through six more terrorists.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons or I blow it!"

Twelve Turian heads swivelled round to see the terrorist leader with a shotgun pressed into the hostage. The secure server simply sat there, the AI imprisoned within completely unaware of its surroundings. Solana's visor cycled through records, eventually finding a match.

Tela Vasir, Council Spectre.

"Doesn't look good for you, does it. An Asari spectre with Asari radicals with commando training in a safehouse on the Asari homeworld? That's a political shitstorm even before we haul your corpse up before the Council."

The Asari's eyes flicked between the SEALs with their rifles trained on her.

"I said drop your fucking weapons!"

The commander of Eagle team held up a detonator.

"Whoops."

The short range burst of electricity emitted from the 'hostage' stripped the Spectre's shields away, shooting through her nervous system and paralysing her. The commander shook his head.

"Noob. Pack her up and let's bounce."

Solana rubbed her helmet and chuckled.

"Can't believe they fell for that."

###

Liara stepped into General Massani's office and nodded at him.

"General. You have a job for me?"

The scarred veteran nodded.

"Yes. This is Agent Culpepper from the CIA."

She turned to coolly regard the man in the expensive business suit.

"Culpepper? You Humans have the strangest names."

The CIA agent nodded at her.

"Captain Ocean. I've heard a lot about you and your unit. Your assault on Battlemaster Kureck's Vorcha bands was inspired."

"I can attribute that victory to nothing but Blood Pack stupidity. I honestly did not think they would be dumb enough to fire rockets in their own generator room. What are you after?"

To his credit the agent took her abrupt change of tack in his stride.

"We've acquired a prisoner who we need some information from but we have all these oversight laws that stop us getting it."

"You're using the Suns as your torturers."

"I wouldn't put it like ..."

"Standard fee ten thousand unstamped platina, twelve thousand if people might come looking for the prisoner. Name?"

"The prisoner? She's called Tela Vasir, an Asari Spec ..."

"Twenty thousand."

"Done. We'll deliver the prisoner to the turnover point. She's a tricky one though."

Liara favoured Culpepper with a smile that had absolutely no warmth behind it.

"I'm trickier."

The agent left the room, promising to deliver the prisoner and the pay. As soon as the door closed Liara turned to look at Zaeed.

"You did good, Scarlet. You ever going to tell me your real name?"

"Nope. A Spectre?"

"You'll get it done."

She smiled again, this time a smile suitable for the man who straddled the line between commander and father for her.

"I always get it done, General."

###

"Mum!"

Sighing, Kleeah turned to her daughter. Jack was standing there, hands on hips, indignant expression on her face.

"Yes Jack?"

"Tali won't let me have a turn on the swing."

Sitting at the kitchen table, Rael chuckled at the long suffering sigh Kleeah let out as she was towed into the garden by her angry daughter. The scene was just so ... domestic. He turned his attention back to the reports spread over the table. He was largely retired from his role as a commando, instead diverting his attention to raising his daughters and training Quarian soldiers. Opposite him Raider let out a short electronic warble Rael had come to associate with a sigh. In recent years all the Geth had become much more Quarian. When he asked he received some spiel about 'dual-linking individual programs to allow for the spontaneous creation of red code matrices' and didn't ask again.

"The two shorter combat exercises in week 5 could be condensed into one longer one to allow for maximum time efficiency."

"They could, but it's better the recruits have a mix of long and short exercises so they have experience at both."

"We understand."

He glanced out of the window to the bubble garden. The tower the Zorah family lived in was shaped like an O with ten lines extending radially from equally spaced points on the main ring's circumference. Each floor was split into ten segments, each segment being a separate apartment. The tower widened as it rose, meaning the apartments were larger the higher up they went, and on the inside of the ring each apartment had a small strip of garden enclosed in a clean glass bubble. It was in this bubble garden that Tali and Jack were giving Kleeah a hard time.

"But I never get to go on the swing!"

"Shut up! You go on all the time! It's not fair!"

"Jack ..."

"Go away! You're stupid!"

"Tali!"

"Muuuum, Tali called me stupid! She's fucking stupid!"

"Muuuum, Jack said the F word!"

Glancing round at him, Kleeah made the Soviet hand signal for 'need backup'. He chuckled as he got up and headed out to the garden.

"Sorry Raider, I need to deal with this."

"We will be on standby with a medkit."

That made Rael guffaw.

###

There were many planets in the galaxy. Some were hot, some were cold. Some were dry, some were wet. Some had crushing pressure cooker atmospheres, some were airless rocks. Some were visions of paradise.

Heshtok was a shithole. There really wasn't a polite way to put it.

Tûrånìy hissed to herself in irritation as a gust of wind caked her in additional grime. She had long given up the idea of cleanliness - as a member of the Prophet's Chapter it was her duty to go places no other Chapter would venture and convert the locals, no matter how vile. Her holoshroud was allowing her to blend in disguised as one of these Vorcha creatures and the Dark Artefact implanted into her chest made the already weak minded creatures more susceptible to her influence. Already one tribe had appointed her their leader after she tore the previous leader's heart out and ate it in front of him. It was going well.

###

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Shepard!"

Laughing with glee, she threw herself at Garrus who caught her, spinning her round before setting her down.

"I'm so glad you managed to get leave to see my graduation."

"Wouldn't miss it. So when are you shipping out?"

"I've got about ten days before my orders come through. So how have you been, Centurion Vakarian?"

She easily fell into step beside Garrus, who subconsciously slowed his pace to allow her to keep up.

"Alright. Bit of a slow day. Did you hear the news about Vasir?"

She screwed up her face in thought.

"One of the guys mentioned the Council were throwing a fit about a missing Spectre. Don't see what all the fuss is about, they're always dropping off the grid."

"Apparently an anonymous merc group claimed they captured her."

"Pff. Yeah right. Spectres are practically invincible. Arterius got his arm eaten by a Chryssachae and it didn't even slow him down."

They walked on in silence for a few seconds, steering towards the hotel she was staying in for the night.

"So me and a couple of the lads were wondering ..."

"Mm?"

"You know Krogan have four balls?"

Garrus looked sideways at her.

"Yes. Where are you going with this?"

"How are they arranged?"

It took his brain a moment to process what she said.

"What?"

"I mean, are they two by two, or all in a line like a testicular Newton's Cradle, or maybe tetrahedral ..."

"If you're so desperate to know I'm sure there's plenty of educational material on Fornax. So, SEAL huh? Like Sol?"

She smirked at him.

"Subject well changed. Yeah, like Sol. How's she doing anyway?"

"Good. Just called last week, said she took out a nest of synthophobe radicals."

He slid his arm around her shoulders as she put hers round his waist.

"So, got any plans for tonight?"

"Alcohol and my best friend."

"Works for me."

###

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS

"How are you today, Miss Vasir?"

Tela Vasir awoke abruptly and was instantly aware that she was in trouble. She was naked, cuffed to a hard metal chair with biotic inhibitors on her palms and forehead and an automatic turret set up in front of her, chaingun humming merrily. Sitting in a chair behind the turret, her feet propped up on a stool and a long blade in her hand, was a strange Asari-looking creature with bright green double pupilled eyes and markings on her face.

"Now then. You have some information we need. You will have one chance every ten days to tell me that information. As long as you are sitting in this chair you may speak freely."

Naturally, the Spectre took the opportunity to start ranting. The other Asari let her finish. It took almost ten minutes before Tela had run out of breath.

"If you're quite finished, we have a question for you. What is the connection between the Citadel Council and the Pure Daughters anti-AI radicals?"

"Fuck you, Suns whore."

"Very well. Theseus, Ulysses."

Tela hadn't even realised the two enormous Krogan with unformed silver crests were even there until they grabbed her. The cuffs unsnapped but before she could do anything a long needle had punched into her side, straight into her left ofola. The ofola was an Asari organ that appeared as a long, coiled tube around a central organ about the size of a tennis ball, serving the function of kidney, liver and part of the digestive system. The needle stabbed straight into the central part of the organ, making her shriek in pain as the contents of the syringe were deposited into her body. The biotic inhibitors came off her but her ability to control dark energy was still terrifyingly absent. Must have injected a biotic blocker.

The two Krogan roughly slammed her to the floor, pinning her on her front as a Salarian in a labcoat wheeled a gurney into the room.

"Up onto the trolley on her front, please, and secure her."

She was hauled up and repositioned on the gurney, quickly strapped down despite her struggles.

"Run decontamination protocol and inject paralytic."

She turned her head to look at the green eyed Asari as the paralytic drug froze her nervous system. If she could have, she would have shuddered in revulsion as a green hand stroked lightly over her crests.

"The Suns pretty much control Omega's organised crime, including the organ trade. You know, you have a very common blood type and two very healthy ofola. You're going to make two sick Asari very happy."

Tela didn't figure out what she meant until the scalpel cut into her back.

###

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS

Dakar Hego hummed a rapid Salarian tune to himself as he put the finishing touches to the Asari lying on the gurney. Despite being paralysed she could still breathe, but luckily her screams had subsided into whimpers. Shifting his forceps around he grabbed one of the severed tubes and fed it into the metal eye, using a skin scaffold to secure the metal into her side. In all there were seven essential tubes leading into each ofola, necessitating seven eyes to be implanted in each side of the back, lining up nicely with the seven connectors on each side of the rig.

"And done. Okay, bring down the harness."

A recessed hatch in the ceiling slid open, revealing a metal rig that descended on thick steel cables to hover just over the stricken Spectre. Dakar tugged the rig down the rest of the way with one hand, lining it up even as he sponged the violet blood off Vasir's back with his other.

"Hmm. I think we'll use the sixteens. The twenties would probably shatter her pelvis. She's quite petite."

He loaded up the boltgun with sixteen centimetre nails and stretched Vasir's limbs out until they fit in the rig.

"Start with wrists and ankles, I think. Then knees and elbows, then hips and shoulders."

He lined up the boltgun with the first eyelet.

###

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS

Liara walked over to the Spectre. With her limbs and torso nailed to a metal rack she definitely looked less threatening.

"Hook her up."

The Salarian doctor pulled the twin clusters of tubes down, lining them up with the two sets of eyes in her back and connecting them up, seven thick needles sliding into their sockets and taking over the function of the lost ofola that were even now sitting in cryostasis units off to the side.

"Hello Tela. Now, I'll just recap for you since a hotheaded Spectre such as yourself didn't listen in biology class. We have taken your ofola and replaced them with a machine that will filter your blood and provide you with intravenous nutrition as well as a steady supply of biotic inhibitor drugs. If you are ever separated from these tubes you will have about forty minutes before your blood toxicity increases beyond the maximum safe level, and a further twenty minutes before you slip into a coma. Now you're all set up, let's get the torture proper started now shall we?"

She produced a leather cap that fitted over the Spectre's head, covering her eyes, earholes and crests, and zipped up the back, blinding and deafening her. Then she tapped something on her Omnitool and an enormous needle aligned itself to hover ten centimetres above the Asari's neck.

"Switch it on."

Drip.

A single drop of water fell from the needle and splashed onto the back of Tela's neck as the rig receded, it and the needle, and their unwilling passenger, lifting smoothly into the air.

"See you in ten days Vasir."

###

"Come on Lizzie. Time to get you back to your room."

He was fairly certain somebody had spiked her drink.

"But I'm soooo hot, Garrus. I want to go swimming."

"You need sleep."

She leaned into him and gave a drunken chuckle.

"So do you. Sleepy time."

The elevator dinged and deposited them on the floor of Lizzie's room. He dragged her along the corridor and to the room, keying open the door.

"But I don't wanna!"

"Now, Lizzie."

With a theatrical sigh, she stomped three steps into the room, then tripped and fell flat on her face. He rushed over to her.

"Are you alright?"

She rolled over onto her back and started pulling at her shirt, mumbling to herself.

"Uh ... what are you doing?"

"Too hot."

She shrugged her shirt off, then started pulling at her tank top, lifting it over her shoulders.

"Lizzie?"

She peeled her sports bra off her chest and then froze, the bottoms of her breasts visible out from under the clingy white material. She looked at him and he could see the sheen of sweat covering her hard, sinewy body.

"Garrus? I'm way too hot."

He caught her as she collapsed, muttering curses under his breath as he carried her to the bathroom. She was panting like an overheating Vorcha, heat rolling off her body in waves. He dumped her unceremoniously in the shower and switched it on full blast, making sure the water was ice cold. She shrieked and curled up as the cold water hit her, cooling her skin and soaking her clothes.

"Cold! Too cold!"

He reached in and hauled her out of the shower, feeling her shiver and press up against him.

"Mm. You're warm."

He plucked one of the fluffy white bathrobes off the bathroom door and wrapped her in it, dragging her to the bed and raising the sheets for her to slide under them. He turned to leave.

"Don't go."

Her grip on his hand was surprisingly strong. Looking back at her, he saw absolute certainty in her eyes.

"Stay. Please."

With her other hand she patted the bed beside her. He thought about leaving but the pleading in her voice was impossible to ignore. Sighing, he clambered into the bed next to her, feeling her curl up beside him and rest her head on his shoulder.

"You know, there's this guy called Garrus."

Spirits, she doesn't even know who I am anymore. I should leave.

"He's been my best friend, like, forever. But I really like him, you know, as more than a friend."

Those words made Garrus stop short and listen.

"He's kind and funny and clever and I know it's weird to be attracted to a Turian because they're all hard and spiky but I'm not attracted to a Turian, I love Garrus ..."

Her voice trailed off.

"That's you, isn't it."

He was unable to reply for a moment, eventually managing a strangled yes.

"Crap. Night night Garrus."

Then she fell asleep. Garrus turned his head so her hair nestled under his chin. There wasn't anything to say.

###

Drip.

By counting her heartbeats Tela had figured out there was exactly fifty four seconds between each drip.

Drip.

The pain had faded hours ago, her entire body numb save from the dripping of water onto the back of her neck.

Drip.

She had no idea where she was. She was alone with her racing thoughts and the droplets of water.

Drip.

She was completely immobilised, not able to move a single muscle. She wasn't even breathing. She assumed the tubes that had replaced her ofola were oxygenating her blood.

Drip.

The water torture slowly, steadily eroded her will to resist.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

###

In the inky blackness of space a window opened. The window was small, the roiling red ring only wide enough to accommodate a tiny sliver of a ship. The three rocky shards that passed through the portal lit off their main drives, fiery glow pushing them towards their intended targets.

Khar'Shan's defence grid didn't even see the three lithocutters approaching the planet. As the cutters slipped into the atmosphere they deployed kilometre wide, gossamer thin wings that allowed them to slowly glide undetected down and into the cities of the Batarian Hegemomy.

The three Prophets inside the cutters checked their holoshrouds, disguising their forms as Batarian nobles, the Dark Artefacts throbbing with the power of suggestion.

###

When Lizzie awoke her head was pounding and her tongue felt matted with a carpet of fur.

"Ugh ..."

Her neural net cheerfully informed her that it was scrubbing her bloodstream of toxins as she cracked open one eye. Memory started to seep back from last night - her drink's bitter aftertaste, light-headedness and being dragged back to the hotel by Garrus, then being thrown into the shower to snap her out of whatever ... Garrus. Shit.

Her eye registered a sloping view of a Turian chest up close. Without his shirt on Garrus's plates were a greyish brown colour, a central ridge surrounded by interlocking plates that were utterly alien yet undeniably familiar. Just seeing them made her feel safe.

Garrus stirred, his arm reflexively tightening around her before relaxing again. His piercing blue eyes opened and focused on the ceiling, then he bent his face down to the head of red hair nestled on his chest.

"Sleep well?"

She glanced up at him, her own eyes almost as blue as his.

"Uh ... I reckon I should address what happened last night ..."

She was cut off as Garrus tightened his grip around her.

"Is it true that you feel that way?"

There was a long pause.

"... Yes."

"Then you should probably know ... I feel the same way about you."

###

The Salarian's eyes bulged as slim blue fingers gripped his throat. Samara slapped the SMG out of his hands as he tried to bring it to bear, then broke his wrist as he reached for his Omnitool, all the while keeping her hand around his thin neck.

"Tell me. What was the name of the ship the Eclipse used to smuggle her offworld?"

The Salarian merely clawed at her arm with one hand, the broken wrist limply hanging at his side.

"Your life hangs on the answer."

The Eclipse Engineer's jaw worked for a moment then he went limp in her arms. She dropped the body, letting it fall at her feet and stepping over it as he walked towards the door.

"Justicar Samara?"

She turned to the source of the voice.

"I am Samara, a servant of the Justicar Code."

"Agent Cachco-Hchavari, KGB."

An unusually small Raachok stepped out of the shadows.

"I understand you are seeking the Ardat-Yakshi known as Morinth?"

"What is your interest in Morinth?"

The Raachok glanced at his Omnitool, as if considering something, then activated it.

"We found CCTV footage linking her to several high profile deaths on Bekenstein. Seems like someone's using her as an assassin. Our two investigations are now pursuing the same person."

"Are you suggesting a partnership?"

"Yes. I am."

###

Miranda reached a hand out and grabbed the person's wrist as they passed her hiding place. The unfortunate individual didn't even have time to squawk in surprise before Miranda was plunging her knife into his neck.

The mark gurgled, feebly trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands. Not bothering to wait until he was dead, Miranda rifled through his pockets. A couple of credit chits, a handful of empty sweet wrappers, a photo of a girl and ... jackpot. Two hits of red sand. She could sell those to the Sliders. Each one would buy her at least a week of food. The man finally expired as she fished a chocolate bar out of his bag and unwrapped it, just pausing to smell the bar before taking a bite.

The flavours spread across her tongue, rich dark chocolate and hints of orange, bringing a near orgasmic surge of pleasure. It must have been at least a year since she had tasted chocolate. Moaning aloud in ecstasy, she wrapped up the rest of the bar and put it back into the man's coat pocket before stripping the coat off the corpse. Her previous coat was an old ratty brown rag she had taken off a dead Jack about a year ago and it needed replacing. The mark's coat was pretty nice, all things considered. A little large for her but she'd take it.

The next thing she did was check over the credit chits. Sixty five credits. A solid haul. Credits weren't worth squat down in the Foundation but there was a crooked tat parlour on West Avenue that did gangers in the basement. That was the way it worked in the Foundation - the more tattoos you have, the more people leave you alone. Tattoos were, after all, the mark of someone tough enough to get the creds they need for ink. Miranda already had both her arms covered in ink and she also had a string of skulls round her neck - one for every life she took. Thus far the count stood at ten and reached almost halfway round her throat.

"Miranda Lawson?"

She spun on her heel, knife instinctively raised as she reached for the biotics that hadn't been there since her amp was stolen on her third day on the run.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The stranger walked up to her, his steps light and powerful. He was a killer.

"My name is Kai Leng. My employer would like to speak with you."

###

The Sword of the Citadel was an amazing ship. At almost two kilometres long she fit the Earth bloc dreadnought category, four HR motors descending on a spur beneath her fuselage, surface studded with proton beam emplacements and protected by proton shielding. Her design was far more streamlined than other Turian ships and her AI, Gladian, made her far more effective in combat than even her impressive weapons and defences would suggest. She was part weapon of war, part work of art and part statement of friendship.

Tevos hated the ship.

The Sword had been completed at the same time as the Destiny Transcendant, the Asari super-dreadnought designed to replace the Ascension as the Council flagship. She had been shocked when the Turians had submitted the Sword as a competitor to the Transcendant. Naturally she had voted for the Transcendant and Luceius had voted for the Sword. What had really turned her shock to outright disbelief was when Murtok had voted for the Sword. His reasoning was sound - eezo based ships weren't really scalable and the Transcendant, despite its enormous size, was barely an improvement on the Ascension - but it still rattled her. That damnable AI's words from all those years ago came back to haunt her.

You've grown too comfortable on the top of the pile.

It was true. For two thousand years the Asari had been the dominant race in the galaxy and now that was starting to change. The Earth bloc had thrown the balance of power into disarray. It would be acceptable, preferable even, if the Turians and the Humans had gone to war and hated each other for it.

She had seen the future. The future had a fringe and mandibles. For the first time in recorded history the Asari councillor wasn't the most powerful individual in the galaxy. So she hated the Sword and all it represented.

Who were these Earth bloc powers anyway? Upstarts new to the galaxy, barely two centuries since they had first tasted vacuum, rocking the boat like an excited child oblivious to the damage they were causing until it was too late. She had liked having the Quarians as exiles and the Geth as the galaxy's boogeymen. Now Geth Primes were parading up and down the Presidium with Quarian kids on their shoulders. She had liked having the Turians as the Council's attack dogs. Now they were thinking for themselves and couldn't be counted on for unflinching loyalty. She had liked the Batarian Hegemony being the puppet power used to justify their military expenditure. Now they were tearing themselves into shreds in the sixth year of a civil war that was only getting bloodier.

The fact of the matter was that she was afraid of the changes to the galaxy. A fear that was turning into anger, anger starting to manifest as hate. That path didn't lead anywhere good.

###

"Chieftain Wrex?"

"What."

"An offworlder is here to see you."

"Who is it?"

"A Krogan with a strange smell."

"Probably a Citadel pyjak."

Wrex leaned back in his rocky throne. Six years ago he had gained the favour of the Blue Suns and it was an allegiance he was reaping the benefits of. The Blood Pack were only holding on in Clan Weyrloc, the remainder of the clans being united, forcibly or not, under Urdnot. In return Wrex supplied the Suns with Krogan recruits that would be trained not just as Krogan Warriors but as soldiers. Wrex had seen the way the Suns commanders like Zaeed Massani, Jentha May or that Asari he had brought to the Suns, Scarlet Ocean (clearly a false name) used their squads like surgeons, each soldier moving with calculated precision, wiping out positions that could have withstood a full company of charging Krogan. The holdout clans and the traditionalists could rant about Wrex selling out to the aliens but none of them could deny Urdnot warriors that had served with the Suns were brutally effective, not because they were physically superior but because they could use their heads for more than a blunt instrument.

"Show the offworlder in."

The offworlder Krogan was led in by two of the Overguard, the elite force of warriors charged with the protection of the rapidly expanding underground city of Urdnot. For the first time in almost two thousand years the Krogan were building, with Suns assistance constructing vast networks of tunnels, clearing rubble and shoring up crumbling ruins. Like almost everything, the image of Krogan walking through clean, intact structures was an expression of Wrex's newfound power.

"Warlord Wrex. I come bearing ..."

"What are you?"

He got up and walked around the offworlder, sniffing.

"You're not Krogan. I can smell it. So what are you?"

The offworlder merely stared.

"Answer."

The image of the green crested Krogan before him wavered, then disappeared in a flash of light. When Wrex's eyes equilibrated again all that was left was a smoking black sphere on the ground that radiated a sense of wrong. He raised a foot and crunched the device beneath his armoured tread.

"Find the offworlder's ship. I want to know everything about him."

The Overguard warriors nodded and hefted their shotguns, heading out to the landing fields. Wrex leaned back in his throne, hand under chin. Then he made a call.

"Pasana? Tell Massani I have something of interest."

###

It was the third day of their leave.

"Look, Lizzie, I really don't know about this."

She sighed and rested a hand on his chest.

"I want to make this, us work. I guess I'd feel better knowing we've done some research."

"I see what you mean. But really? Is this the way to go about it?"

She sighed.

"It took me long enough to convince myself, but I really think it would help, you know, get things started."

"I just don't want this to turn into a horrible interspecies awkwardness thing."

"Hush. No more arguing. Let's just get this over with."

They leaned back into the pillows as Lizzie pressed the remote, turning on the ceiling mounted vid screen above the bed. The title screen of the vid popped up.

Confessions of a Xenophile 21: Belle and Derian

"I can't believe you convinced me to watch interspecies porn with you."

###

A/N: Extra long chapter to get us going in Innocence Lost.


	19. Innocence Lost (2)

A/N: I am pleased to announce I have completed my planning for this arc of the story. Innocence Lost will have two main foci: a series of flashbacks detailing Liara's evolution from adorable bumbling scientist to cold hearted Blue Suns captain, and the events occurring on Tuchanka. Have no fear however, Lizzie, Garrus, Tali/Jack, Samara and Miranda will all have their moments in Innocence Lost. Really this arc is about the development of the main characters from children to adults, each in their own crucibles with their own challenges. The next arc, Reapers, set in 2177, will be based on the events of Mass Effect, however Schism and War will have almost nothing in common with Mass Effect 2 and 3.

###

Councillor Murtok was not happy.

"STG supposed to be best. Not bested by mercenary group."

The STG captain standing in front of him looked very nervous as Murtok shifted through the reports.

"These Suns shifted thousands of tons of equipment to the surface of Tuchanka and you have no idea how they're getting past the blockade."

"Yes. Only speculation but significant evidence Suns have Soviet and Raachok backing. Stealth ships?"

"I thought we developed a counter to that."

"Stealth shrouded foot soldiers can be detected by laser grids and pressure plates. Technique not applicable in space."

"Hm, yes. Might want to create scanner that can detect stealth ships. Secondary issue now. Activity on Tuchanka, report."

"The Krogan have largely polarised into two distinct factions. The largest is united under Clan Urdnot, backed by the Blue Suns. Their leader, a warlord called Wrex, sends all his warriors to train with the Suns. Produce much more dangerous warriors, versatile, able to use a far greater range of weapons and with tactical acumen on par with Turian centurion standard. Other faction is Weyrloc and associate clans, backed by Blood Pack. Numerically and strategically inferior to Urdnot faction."

"Recommended course?"

"Wait until Urdnot and Weyrloc come to blows. Weyrloc likely obliterated, Urdnot take heavy casualties. Then assassinate Wrex."

###

"Warlord?"

"Go ahead."

The scout sergeant peered down his scope at the offworld imposter's ship.

"We found it. It's not like any ship I've ever seen."

The five man scout team were spread out around the landing site, dusty beige armour marked with the red Urdnot fist blending into Tuchanka's equatorial deserts flawlessly. The sergeant and two of his other men were on overwatch, spread around the periphery of the site with their enormous Carnis anti-material rifles, each one designed to put down a charging warrior in a single headshot while the Corporal and another scout cautiously approached clutching Seu'Seun made Ravage SMGs.

"Talk to me. What are you looking at?"

"Hold on, I'll patch in my corporal."

He tapped a few buttons on his Omnitool and moments later the rough voice of the scout corporal joined in the conversation. Almost the first thing Wrex had got from the Suns was a thousand high quality Omnitools with advanced communication programmes. The Weyrloc had scoffed and mocked the decision, that is until thanks to Urdnot being able to communicate they had crushed Clan Gatatog in a lightening Tomkah attack. The Incinerate and Flamer modules on the tools had helped as well.

"If I didn't know better I'd say the ship's hull was made of stone."

The sergeant watched as his corporal walked up to the ship and scraped his knife over it. The knife was a Seu'Seun model, a diamond edged vibrating blade the length of a Krogan forearm, more of a short sword than a knife and yet the blade didn't even leave a scratch.

"Darg, run some scans."

The other scout with the Corporal waved his Omnitool over the strange grey shard of a ship.

"Omni says it's rock alright, but really dense. Scans can't even get three fingers into the hull."

"How strong?"

Darg tapped at his Omnitool a couple more times, running a quick calculation.

"Damn. This stuff makes Thresher hide look like a Salarian's eyelid. This thing could take a direct hit from a Tomkah cannon and not even notice."

There was a pause as the clan chief pondered his options.

"Secure the area and await reinforcement and a construction team. Fortack needs a bigger lab anyway and it looks like that ship can be the centrepiece."

###

SIX YEARS AGO

The newly minted Sergeant Ocean took the proffered Sharp and peered through the scope, examining the building using the thermal vision. Her first mission as a squad leader was to take out a Blood Pack slave pen, working in conjunction with two other squads under the command of a Lieutenant Aelia, an ex-Emaris commando with a notoriously effective tactical style.

"All squads report."

"Pierce squad ready."

"Lambda squad ready."

Liara called in using her preferred call sign.

"Proteus squad ready."

"Alright. Hold position, plan your assaults. We go on my signal."

Liara glanced across at Grunt, who flipped out a visor from the comm unit over his left earhole.

"Hmm. I see ten Vorcha and two Pack Krogan as well as two of my type. I'd say the snipers take out the Pack Krogan, then the heavies and snipers rip up the Vorcha while the assault team charge across the courtyard and breach the bottom level."

"What about the silvers?"

At this Grunt looked down and shuffled from foot to foot.

"I was hoping ..."

"You want me to free them."

"... Yes."

"Alright then. On my mark, take out the Pack, then lead the assault team over while the Heavies keep the Vorcha suppressed. I'll biotic charge across and get the Silvers."

"Thank you, Battlemaster."

She handed the Sharp back to the Raachok sniper and pulled her Mattock-Six from her back, checking over the bulky rifle's status lights before sighting down the assault scope.

"I see the silvers."

They had less than five minutes to wait.

"All teams, go go go!"

###

Lizzie knocked hesitantly on the door, which slid open to admit her a moment later. She anxiously stepped through, glancing around the barrack room.

"Hey look, it's the FNG."

"Be nice."

The five soldiers in the room all turned to look at her.

"Lieutenant Elizabeth Shepard, biotic specialist, Class 6 biotics. Which one is my bunk?"

A tanned woman with long black hair jerked a thumb at the top bunk nearest the door.

"Lucky me. So who's who?"

The five of them took turns to introduce themselves.

"Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, tech specialist and medic. Also class 3 biotics."

"Lieutenant Ashley Williams, sniper specialist."

"Lieutenant James Vega, heavy weapon specialist."

"Lieutenant Jacob Taylor, assault specialist. Class 3 biotic."

"Lieutenant Kasumi Goto, close quarters specialist. You need a callsign."

Lizzie's attention was instantly on the diminutive Japanese girl.

"Callsign?"

"Yeah, callsign." Lizzie couldn't possibly fathom how Kasumi was so chipper. "I'm Ninja. Ashley is Wildfire, Kaidan is Maple because of how adorably Canadian he is, James is Loco, Jacob is Cannonball."

At that point James cut in.

"Lola. She can be Lola."

Jacob hit her on the shoulder.

"Grab your blaster of choice, we're going down to the firing range to see how you handle yourself."

Looking round, she noticed that the whole squad was already armoured up. She slid the weapon tray out from under her bed, her eyes widening at the enormous array of destructive weapons available to her. In total, she had a Gast's rifle with every imaginable attachment, a Radiance carbine, an Axeman marksman rifle, an Eviscerator-Ten shotgun, a TCN4 SMG, a TCN5A1 HSMG, an SN7 pistol and a Talon pistol.

"Jesus, they don't spare any expense, do they?"

In the end she pulled the entire tray out, folding it in half and turning it into an impromptu carry case. She had seen several soldiers walking round the barracks with them already.

"Okay, shall we?"

###

Garrus sat in the armoury of the Sword of the Citadel, inventorying weapons for the Turian marine detachment. A rotation aboard the Sword was considered a cushy job but Garrus wanted to keep everyone on their toes. No point becoming complacent now, after all. Sighing, he checked over his report so far.

• 120 Phaeston-IV assault rifles (note: three rifles set aside for maintenance)

• 20 Phaeston-IV Mod-H light machine guns (note: one LMG set aside for maintenance)

• 20 Phaeston-IV Mod-S 'Krysae' sniper rifles

• 60 Amirah-III assault shotguns (note: one shotgun set aside for maintenance). At that one Garrus smirked, recalling his old childhood friend Amirah. He wondered if she had been named after the shotgun or vice versa.

• 20 Echela-I heavy projected particle cannon (note: three cannon set aside for calibration, one for maintenance). The Echela was an interesting weapon. Based off Seu'Seun particle weapon technology the simple fact was that the Echela by its very nature was power hungry and inefficient, projectile based heavy weapons being far more effective and much cheaper. The only reason the Echela PPC even got a look in was because the blasts could not penetrate the hull of the ship, making them perfect for fending off boarders.

• 120 Krystus-V SMGs

• 120 Laphan-V heavy pistols

• 400 blocks Haliat Mk V shredder ammuniton

• 400 blocks Haliat Mk V tungsten ammunition

• 400 blocks Haliat Mk V disruptive ammunition

• 200 Echela power cells

• 40 cases ship safe frag grenades

• 1 case of suicidal boredom

Chuckling to himself, he deleted the last one.

###

SIX YEARS AGO

Liara charged. It had taken her a while to master the technique but it turned out her altered biotics were almost perfectly suited to charging. So she charged.

She slammed into the first Superkrogan, or Silver, hard enough to knock him on his ass. She didn't waste any time. She may have been trained and modified but she knew she was no match for one of Okeer's creations. Taking advantage of the creature trying to scramble to its feet, she ran up and placed her hands either side of his head. Information flowed between two minds, one full and one empty, and another identity was born.

"Zeus."

"Battlemaster."

Zeus unslung his hammer, calmly walking up to a pair of Vorcha Pyros and hitting a home run as Liara stalked up to the next level.

She barely cleared the stairwell when there was a roar and a silver blur charged at her. She only had time to choke out a surprised curse before the shape was on top of her, slamming her against the wall and gripping her arms with both hands, preventing her from touching him even as he reared his head back for a headbutt.

Across the street, Grunt saw his Battlemaster in danger and blood rage pumped through his veins, fueling his primitive yet powerful biotics into a field that compounded his momentum, surging him towards his target.

"I AM KROGAN!"

It was his mantra, his nature. He was a Krogan, and if loudly proclaiming it gave his Blood Rage some extra oomph then so be it. Surrounded in a cocoon of blue, he soared across the street and slammed into his retarded brother.

Liara fell to the ground, groaning and delicately probing her injured arm as Grunt pulled back a fist before bringing it down on top of the Krogan's armoured hump, the power behind the blow forcing him to his knees.

"Quickly, Battlemaster!"

Shrugging the pain away, she ran over and put her hand on the silver's forehead, once again forging a consciousness to fill the empty space in his head.

"Poseidon."

The Superkrogan merely looked at her as Zeus rejoined them, his hammer and chest caked in Vorcha gore. A call came in from the Lieutenant.

"Move into the compound and take out any Pack you see."

She peered down through a hole in the floor of the building's upper level to see her assault squad cutting through the remnants of a Vorcha squad like a buzz saw.

"Alright. Form up and move up. Um, stay frosty."

###

Wrex knew that he was a clan leader, a warlord, probably the single most powerful Krogan since the glory days of Credok, Morro and Shiagur and that doing what he was doing was exceptionally stupid. But all the same he always felt the need to lead a combat mission now and again, just to keep his skills in. He had a small army that was his personal force, the elites of the elites, only assed for the most difficult missions and led by Wrex himself, a force of one hundred crests, ten from each of the six major allied clans of Urdnot, Ravanor, Quash, Raik, Drogal and Jorgal, and five from each of the eight minor allied clans of Thax, Kellar, Drau, Forsan, Ganar, Hailot, Khel and Nakmor. They usually dealt with toughened outposts belonging to the counter-alliance clans of Weyrloc, Jurdon, what little remained of Gatatog, Ruttan, Bant, Rox, Forsel, Kabassai and Orkalas.

At the moment his army was approaching a large outpost that had been used as a springboard for a number of unsuccessful raids on Ravanor's female camps. Wrex gripped his war blade as he crouched behind a fallen chunk of rebar, clad in sandy coloured Clan Alliance armour with the red three clawed fist of Urdnot emblazoned on the left side of the chest. Next to him crouched Inamorda, his second in command who had given up his career as a bounty hunter to bear the sand coloured armour, this time with the black varren skull of Ravanor on his breast.

"Kellar Aten, report."

On the Omnitool screen the two warriors saw a youngish Krogan with a dirty brown crest, his chest bearing the brown peaks that were Kellar's symbol.

"My scouts have taken up sniping positions. We've had a look in the camp. From what we can tell there are about seventy targets in there, mostly armed with old style mass effect or chemical/ballistic shotguns. We're seeing a lot of purple crests but we can't tell from here if they're Ruttan or Orkalas. The boss looks to be a Gatatog though."

"Alright, good work. Make sure none of your scouts are in boomer radius."

"Will do."

Wrex turned to Inamorda, a predatory glint in his eye.

"Hit them with the rain."

Inamorda keyed his Omnitool, sending a signal to the twenty Krogan manning the unit's infantry portable artillery systems.

"Fire."

Enormous rocket tubes that had been sighted for the last fifteen minutes fired, their payloads arcing into the air to split high above the counter-alliance camp.

"Scouts, weapons free."

The highly trained scouts easily drew beads on the panicking hostiles, working in tandem to score double headshots to ensure their kills. Ten of the hostiles dropped as the Scouts each rammed another fat crystal tipped shell into the breech of their rifles. The artillery strike landed, incendiary bomblets transforming the camp into a vision of hell, tents going up in a conflagration as Krogan roars filled the air, flaming thermite paste clinging to armour and skin and burning through. Wrex jumped out from behind his hiding place, pulling the heavy grenade launcher from his back as the remainder of his troops stood and charged, swarming forwards on all sides of the camp. The heavy weapons of each ten crest squad slowed and took up position on the ridges overlooking the camp, heavy machine guns, high caliber grenade launchers and guided rockets tearing into the scattered Counters, blowing off limbs and perforating torsos as the assault troopers closed in, wielding Blitz LMGs like assault carbines as they charged behind a storm of bullets, then switching to their Obliterator heavy shotguns as they got into what most Krogan considered maximum engagement distance. By the time the Counter-alliances returned fire only sixteen of them were still combat effective. Unlike the 'traditional' Krogan, Wrex's unit fought as a team. Each one of them aimed and fired their enormous shotguns simultaneously. Nine more of the hostiles were felled by the shotgun blasts. The remaining seven were set upon in melee. Outnumbered almost ten to one by the assault force they stood little chance.

Wrex took his Krogan war blade, pacing around the camp and hacking at the heads of fallen enemies. A quirk of warfare with regeneration powers was that the victor usually took very few casualties. When fighting Krogan the tactic was not to go for killshots but to wound them so severely that they would be out of combat until their regeneration kicked in, and keep doing so until every single one of them was down. The killing blows usually came only after the battle was won. In Wrex's lightning assault four of his own warriors had been felled but even now one of them was picking himself up, orange crest marking him out as a Jorgal.

"Warlord?"

He glanced around at the voice, then immediately brought his grenade launcher to bear. Standing up on the ridge, seemingly oblivious to the weapons aimed at them, were three Krogan he recognised all top well. Forsel Shiirk, Kabassai Otono and Orkalas Skava. Three clan leaders. Three enemies.

The Orkalas clan leader stepped forwards, instantly recognisable by his deep purple crest and eyes, his chin pierced by several metal rings from which hung the teeth of defeated enemies, giving his face the appearance of having a feature halfway between a second mouth and a beard.

"Urdnot Wrex!"

"Orkalas Skava."

The three clan leaders stepped forward, revealing what looked like the entirety of their three clans behind them, females and children included. Wrex could even spot several Tomkahs in the distance.

"Guld has lost his mind. He intends to attack your female camps with chemical weapons. I won't be a part of something like that."

The purple crested clan leader walked down the bluff to stand eye to eye with Wrex.

"We're here to join you."

###

With the addition of Forsel, Kabassai and Orkalas, the Clan Alliance's assembly was now attended by seventeen clan leaders. The latest additions to the assembly were causing a lot of tension though - Drogal and Forsel had a long history of animosity and the mountain clans of Kellar and Khel were fierce rivals for territory and resources with Kabassai. Orkalas seemed the only welcome addition, but then again they were surpassed only by Raik in their reputation as savage warriors.

At the moment Drogal Vrekt was speaking, the silver pattern in his dark grey crest flashing in the light. The patterns were formed by the crest being cracked with a red hot blade then molten platinum being poured into the wound. All told it was excruciatingly painful.

"How can we believe you? What if this is an elaborate ruse instigated by the coward Guld?"

Forsel Shiirk slammed a fist down on the table.

"You doubt us? You would dishonour me so?"

Inwardly groaning, Wrex rose to his feet.

"Control yourselves. This is not the place for squabbling like Vorcha fighting over a varren leg. If this is a ruse then it is a poorly designed one. Three entire clans have taken their warriors from Guld's armies, leaving him weakened, and placed their females and young into our care. Not even the pyjak shit behind Weyrloc crests would think that was a good plan."

Orkalas Skava stood, his tooth beard clinking as he fished a paper roll out of his bag.

"Before we attacked the Counter-alliance warriors and forced our way out of their base one of our scouts, Orkalas Sarh, managed to steal this from the Weyrloc."

He spread the paper out on the table, pinning it down with an empty grenade casing, a water canteen, a half finished bottle of Ryncol and a pistol with an enormous bullet hole in the side.

"These are plans for Urdnot base camp. I don't know how Guld got them. These vents are marked with orange. I think those are the targets of his chemical weapons. They lead into this air processing units which ventilate the entire south west section of the tunnels."

Ravanor Ksoth clenched his fists.

"The Urdnot female camp and birthing hospital. They would kill at least two hundred females and thirty young."

Wrex tuned out the enraged growls of the assembled clan leaders as he narrowed his eyes at the plans to his base. He reached out and tore off a corner of the sheet, putting it on his tongue. The slightly sharp taste assailed his tastebuds as he took it out of his mouth.

"Uh ... Warlord?"

A low growl emanated from the back of his throat.

"Reed paper. Printed black on yellow. Doors labelled with a three fingered hand ... These plans were drawn by a Salarian."

###

SIX YEARS AGO

Liara led her squad deeper into the slave auction house. Incredibly loud music was booming from the main hall, broken occasionally by the rough voice of the Krogan auction master. It was probable the occupants of the room didn't even know they were under attack.

"This next item, an Asari beauty, forty six years old and never with a man between her legs before. Bidding starts at twenty thousand creds."

Liara hissed through her teeth. She knew she had to wait for the other squads but she was getting mad. She didn't want to have to listen to this any longer.

Thankfully the Lieutenant agreed with her.

"Lambda and Proteus squads, full breach. Take those fucks down."

With a roar of fury Grunt and his two newfound brothers smashed through the wall, the three of them almost instantly falling into a flawless dynamic, two covering with autocannon fire while the third moved up, striking left and right with his biotics and his hammer. Behind the three man three ton whirlwind of devastation the rest of the Suns charged in, their weapons firing, cutting down Vorcha and clients alike with furious storms of flying ammunition.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons!"

Liara looked up at the stage. The auction master and three Vorcha stood behind what reminded Liara of a macabre washing line but with several young females of various species hanging from it instead of clothing.

"Drop them or we'll kill all of them!"

Glancing around, she saw her team in a firing position, kneeling in a line, reminding her of a firing squad. Then she looked back at the terrified girls. They were covered in burns and bruises, Blood Pack weapons pressed into their heads and tears running down their faces. More than one had pissed themselves. Their sobs assaulted her earholes.

"Everyone, lower your weapons."

There was a pause as her squad looked at her in disbelief.

"Do it now!"

Reluctantly the Suns lowered their weapons, placing them on the floor. All except one.

The Raachok trooper snapped his LMG into a firing position, levelled at the knees of the exposed slaves.

"Fuck that."

He let rip. Bullets sprayed out of his weapon, cutting through the legs of the now screaming slave girls and stitching lines of holes across the knees of the Blood Pack troopers. The Krogan and his three Vorcha were toppled, roaring and hissing in pain. The rest of the squad surged up, snapping off execution shots and putting down the Packs for good as more of them administered medigel to the wounded slave girls and untied them from the crossbar they were hanging off.

Liara turned to lay into the Raachok soldier only to find herself face to face with a livid Lieutenant.

"Ocean. You fucked up."


	20. Innocence Lost (3)

A/N: Quite a few people seemed unhappy with the way I handled the flashbacks in the last chapter. I had originally not intended for them to be part of the story but after the first Innocence Lost chapter it was pointed out to me that Liara seemed to go dark side kind of randomly and I wanted to fill in exactly how that occurred. This chapter I'm going to try a different way of handling the flashbacks, your feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated.

Additionally, if anyone complains about the Krogan War being insanely easy, it's meant to be a bit of a roflstomp. The Alliance have warriors trained in tactical thinking, Blue Sun mechs and air support and Wrex, and even if they didn't they still outnumber the counter-Alliance Krogan three to one.

Also, MY BIRTHDAY!

###

The Krogan were preparing for war.

Mordin Solus hummed a tune to himself as he put the final sentence in his report.

War likely to result in high casualties, unpredictable variables complicate matters. Recommend postponing Genophage modification until after war resolved.

- Specialist Mordin Solus, STG (seconded)

He sent the report and promptly banished it from his mind, instead focusing on the events occurring on Tuchanka.

###

Wrex looked over the preparations for the war. The Urdnot Central Hall was an enormous circular space used to overawe potential visitors with the Alliance's might, ringed by thirty metre tall stone statues of ancient Krogan warriors, one for each clan on Tuchanka. The message was clear - this was a place where every clan was welcome. The fact that the Weyrloc statue was frequently used as a urinal spoiled the effect slightly. Now the central space was being used as a troop assembly area. A scarred Drau veteran in Suns armour was schooling a group of Orkalas warriors in the use of Seu'Seun shotguns. Despite being on average four feet shorter than a Seu'Seun the Krogan race possessed the fortitude and brute strength to wield Seu'Seun made weaponry with little difficulty. Three Tomkahs were checked over by their crews even as they bragged about the number of kill flashes painted on the cabins. A pissed off Quarian in a heavily armoured Suns exosuit headbutted a Nakmor warrior who wasn't paying attention as she briefed a group about the operation of Broadsword mechs. Two Urdnot warriors were sparring using the Raik fighting style, something Wrex had once heard a Human describe as 'Krav Maga but with more Krogan'. A group of Drogal warriors chanted a Krogan war hymn as they loaded fat grenades into the cylindrical drums that fed their heavy launchers. The whole scene was, as Pasana would have put it, montage-worthy.

From his position atop his tower Wrex turned away from the preparations and looked out over Tuchanka's bomb and sand blasted landscape.

"Warlord Wrex?"

He glanced round. He hadn't even noticed his second in command coming up behind him.

"Inamorda. Tell me, have you ever seen an ocean before?"

The grey crested warrior shook his head as he joined Wrex in staring out over the ruined planet.

"Just imagine it. From the Mawskull cliffs to the Ravast Mesa, nothing but water. In the distance on the mesa a ship, a Krogan ship, not a weapon of war but a trade vessel taking off from the spaceport. Krogan children playing in the central hall. See, just over there by the Fesquach statue the Shaman would be telling them a story. Maybe the story of the Rachni."

Wrex blinked and glanced over to the man he trusted above all others.

"Ah, forgive an old man his little fantasies. I have some concerns about putting Drogal and Forsel warriors together in the destroyer units ..."

###

Liara sighed and looked at the monitor, news feeds ticking across the screen as she tried to focus on her report. A headline caught her eye.

MATRIARCH BENEZIA T'SONI: 'I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP HOPE' - SIX YEARS SINCE DISAPPEARANCE OF DAUGHTER BENEZIA STILL FUNDING SEARCH

She felt tears prick at her eyes, dashing them away angrily. The sad truth was that Liara T'Soni was dead. Her body was inhabited by the cruel, cold Blue Suns captain Scarlet Ocean. However inside her a tiny traitorous voice spoke up. 'She's your mother', it said, 'she at least deserves to know'. She hadn't run to her mother when she had her ... accident on Yarrow because she had known she would have never made it past Thessia's border security officers. But she supposed the voice had a point. A video message couldn't hurt, could it?

Her mind made up, she locked her door and set up a vid camera on her terminal, sitting down at her desk. She was suddenly aware of her appearance - clad in a cracked and scorched Suns armour set with several bullet holes in the shoulder pad, a fresh cut on her face courtesy of the Omniblade of an Eclipse merc she had killed on the most recent mission, her skin caked in a mix of dirt, stray medigel and the blood of at least six individuals of at least three different species, including her own. She briefly considered going and cleaning up but she knew that if she didn't record her message right now she would never get round to it.

She switched on the camera and leaned back.

"Timelog 16:37 24th April 2171, Terran Standard. Ident Captain Scarlet Ocean, Proteus battallion. Location SSV Little Wing. Content is private personal correspondence. Marial, if you watch beyond this point you're partnered with Grunt during sparring practice for the rest of the patrol and Archer's been teaching him muay thai. Begin message."

She waited ten seconds, ensuring that the ship's obscenely nosy comm officer would have ample time to pull his skinny Salarian skull out of her message. Then she began.

"Hello Mother. I'm not sure if you'll recognise me, after all, in the past six years I've changed a bit. I hope this message finds you in good health. Don't bother replying, I just felt the need to let you know I'm still alive, after a fashion."

Scarlet Ocean faded into the background, letting Liara T'Soni out.

"Mother, I've ... I've done some terrible things with the Blue Suns. Somewhere along the line I stopped regretting them and started enjoying them. I guess I should probably explain why."

She chuckled and the sound had no mirth in it.

"Goddess, I'm probably doing this as much for me as for you. I've found myself wondering how I got like this. Six years ago my only concern was validating my latest harebrained theory on the Prothean extinction. So this is what I've been up to these past years."

SIX YEARS AGO

"What. The fuck. Was that. Ocean!"

Liara cowered before the wrath of her lieutenant.

"I ... I ..."

"Who the fuck made you a bug-fucking elloruru like you a Sergeant!"

"I'm sorry ..."

"Shut your flap, Ocean, I'm not done! Charging into combat with no backup just so you could pick up more of your freaky wind up Krogan pets, sending your squad into battle without leadership, folding to a hostage taker ... You're damn lucky we're not near an airlock."

"I'm sorry, okay! It won't happen again."

"I'm sure as hell it won't, Private."

"Uh ... I thought it was Sergeant ..."

"NOT ANYMORE IT'S NOT!"

"Really? I didn't think it was so bad for a first timer."

The Lieutenant spun on her heel to face the newcomer.

"And who the fuck do you ... General Massani sir!"

She snapped a salute as the scarred general nodded at her.

"At ease, Lieutenant. Secure the perimeter. Ocean, walk with me."

The unspoken criticism that the Lieutenant had failed to secure the perimeter because she was busy laying into Liara sat heavy in the air. Zaeed put his arm around Liara's shoulders and steered her away from the other soldiers.

"You did good, kid. All objectives completed and not a single casualty among your squad."

He offered her an energy bar that she tore into, her earlier biotic charge having really taken it out of her. She spoke around a mouthful of food.

"I made mistakes. When I saw those poor girls I froze up."

Zaeed shook his head.

"The first time I ever led men into battle was on the planet Seu'Tseuma during the bug wars. Our sergeant had been critically wounded and needed medical attention and there were twenty bugs between us and the landing field for the medivac. I panicked and marched my men straight into a goddamn ambush. Twelve of us went in and five came out. So compared to that, you weren't bad at all. You've got potential, Ocean. You made mistakes, yes, but how the hell else are you supposed to learn?"

###

"Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!"

Rael chuckled as Tali and Jack splashed around in the sea. Kleeah had convinced him to take the girls on a holiday and so he had booked a week long stay in a hotel on the Raachok hive world of Klohchan. Raachok hive worlds were unique in the galaxy in that every single one of them had been terraformed beyond recognition. Surrounded by a cloud of shadowy particles in high atmosphere broken only by enormous ring shaped space stations through which ships could transit safely, hive planets received no sunlight, their ecosystems entirely replaced by synthetic organisms. The oceans were filled with luminescent green micro-organisms that took their energy from the motion of the water, meaning their oceans needed to be filled with subsurface power plants that used their exhausts to create hundreds of currents and enormous waves. The continents were laced with glowing green rivers, the remainder of the landmasses being completely covered in cities of sleek black towers. The travel guide Rael had downloaded had stated 'You do not understand the meaning of the word alien until you have visited a Raachok hive planet'.

Tali and Jack were illuminated by the bioluminescent organisms in the sea they were playing in as Rael and Kleeah relaxed on the black sand beach. To his understanding beaches on hive worlds weren't actually sand but the deactivated nanobots that violently terraformed the planet to its current state. Despite initially being weirded out by sitting on dormant nanomachines Rael quickly stopped thinking about it, instead focusing on his family.

"Look at that, Daddy."

Eight year old Jack clambered up onto his lap and pointed at two Human men in the water with long wooden boards.

"What are they doing?"

He absent-mindedly stroked her head as he peered at them.

"I don't know, sweetie."

"A big wave's coming Daddy. They'll get wet."

"Yes, I suppose they ... Ancestors!"

The Humans were somehow being propelled by the wave, standing up on their wooden boards. Rael gaped in sheer amazement. He had never seen anything quite like it. As he watched, they rode the wave right the way into shore, sending up huge slashing sprays of water every time they turned.

"Can I play Daddy?"

###

Forsel Shiirk leaned over and muttered a question to Kellar Fokarn.

"What are we doing here?"

"Planning the attack."

The Forsel clan leader rumbled his irritation.

"Planning?"

Fokarn turned to look at his counterpart. Like most of the mountain clans Kellar tended to be smaller than other Krogan, with dull dirty brown crests, but Shiirk knew not to underestimate them. They had a reputation for making up with their physical disadvantage by using their brains.

"Wrex does it all the time. He's a bit of a thinker."

Shiirk just humphed as the clan leaders filed into the meeting hall, taking their seats at the circular table cut from an enormous slab of granite and intricately carved with depictions of ancient Krogan civilisation and battles. Rumour was that Wrex had done some of the carving himself. In this instance, however, the table was covered in maps and paper documents.

Shiirk walked round the table to the seat with the Forsel banner draped over it, dropping into it with a heavy sigh as either side of him the Quash and Drau chieftains leaned across him to discuss the deployment of their troops on the western flank of the battle line.

Shiirk recognised the value of a thinker - just because he had a crest and a quad didn't mean he was stupid - but his sense of Kroganness rebelled against the spirit of co-operation. He groaned again as Quash and Drau shook hands. This could take some getting used to.

###

Liara sat down heavily at her desk. Her gut still ached from being slugged by a Blood Pack Krogan and she had nasty burns all over her left leg from a pyromaniac Vorcha, but she had promised herself she would record more of her message and she wasn't going to put it off.

"Resume recording. Before I keep going, I should probably tell you about exactly what happened to me on Yarrow ..."

SIX YEARS AGO

The Raachok surgeon switched off the scanner as Liara gratefully pulled her shirt back on.

"I have the preliminary results here. From what I can tell you still possess a fully Asari set of organs but they're all half the size they should be. The extra space is being used for a whole bunch of other organs I can only guess at the purpose of. This really is fascinating ... Two separate sets of lungs, circulatory system, digestive system, even two distinct layers to your dermis. Really the only thing shared between your Asari and Prothean physiology is your brain."

She pushed herself up off the table and pulled a pair of shorts on, bending down to scratch at the join between Asari and Prothean skin midway down her thigh.

"What about my hands and feet, Doctor?"

"Ah yes." The surgeon bent down to peer at her hands. Her thumb, index and middle fingers were Prothean, segmented, longer and with an extra joint compared to her Asari ring and little fingers, which were steadfastly refusing to respond to her nerves, remaining frozen loosely curled beneath her palm.

"It seems Protheans were a three fingered species. Your central nervous system has been split, like most of your organs, with alternating Asari and Prothean vertebrae in your spine, but that's not the point, sorry. Your hands and feet are linked to the Prothean section of your nervous system and the nerves in your remaining Asari digits have been disconnected. I would recommend surgically altering your hands to correspond to the Prothean enervation."

"You mean, remove my fingers?"

"Yes, and make your hands narrower to compensate. You should be able to adapt sections of Atavira armour for your purposes."

"What about my biotics?"

"Hmm. They seem to be a hybrid between Asari and Prothean biotics. A truly fascinating study. Another interesting thing is your muscle structure. Despite your Asari muscles having been reduced in diameter they are much denser, meaning that they still possess the strength of a normal Asari. On top of that your Prothean muscles are composed of a number of interlocking rotating fibres packed in a simple fractal pattern. If the trend holds you should have the strength of an Asari and a Prothean combined, which I suppose makes sense. Considering the Prothean muscles seem to be three times as powerful as Asari muscles, you should find you're four times as strong as you used to be. If you don't object I'd like to run some more detailed scans of your Prothean organs, if I have to stick you back together every time you go play with the Blood Pack I'd like to know what I'm doing."

Liara sighed.

"Am I going to have to get naked again?"

The Raachok just looked at her. She sighed and pulled off her shirt.

###

Aquamarine. Largely overlooked by the rest of the galaxy, Aquamarine was 99 per cent covered in turquoise ocean, the remaining one per cent consisting of an archipelago of rocky islands that formed a rough ring one hundred kilometres wide around the planet's magnetic north pole. The planet was situated in a sparsely populated backwater of the Terminus systems, first charted by Raachok explorers in 2141 and with little of note. The occasional Terminus warlord sometimes tried to set up a base on one of the planet's many islands. These ventures were usually derailed by the Kepp.

The Kepp were the planet's native sentient life forms. An aquatic species, the Kepp had very unusual physiology. They had long, swept back teardrop shaped heads devoid of any adornment save a scattering of fourteen diamond shaped sensory pods in the forehead and a wickedly sharp toothed mouth from which can flick four highly toxic barbed tongue stingers. The deep blue-grey bodies also possess four manipulative limbs that can tuck into the body until they fit flush with the Kepp's thick waxy exoskeleton, much like the head. Along with these limbs tucked two by two into the belly the Kepp possess four fins, twin dorsals and two pectorals, reminiscent of Earth sharks. Their tails narrow, then split into four long tentacles covered in tiny fins that can propel a Kepp through water at up to fifty kilometres an hour. In the oceans of Aquamarine the Kepp are the alpha predators.

The initial Raachok study on the Kepp was largely dismissive of the aquatic species, noting that despite their aggressive imperialistic tendencies the Kepp were unlikely to ever become a threat due to their pathological fear of leaving the oceans they live in. Despite their advanced material sciences and weapon technology the psychological barriers of the species against space exploration were far too great to ever be overcome.

Naturally, the Raachok survey team hadn't counted on Nīūt-Nå. The Prophet, ensconced in the command ship of one of the most prominent shoals in the guise of Warrior KM1489, had already turned most of the shoal and was preparing to infiltrate their main contender. When the time came, the Kepp would make an excellent addition to their army.

###

"Sure I'll work for you. I'll kill kids, rob charities and shoot up hobo soup kitchens but there is NO FUCKING VERSION OF THIS in which I agree to wear ... whatever the hell that is."

With visible disappointment Kai Leng put away the tight white catsuit he had been offering to her and brought out a set of white and gold light armour.

"Good boy. Have a chocolate drop."

Miranda ignored his bristling at her dismissive tone and changed into the proffered armour, rotating her joints to ensure the plates locked into place. She had never worn a full armour set before but during her time with the Jacks, and later the Sliders, she had used a breastplate here, a gauntlet there and had more or less figured it out.

The Illusive Man sat with his back to a star, looking at the holoprojection of the young woman before him. He had to admit, he was disappointed in her choice of attire. Quite apart from its aesthetic value the catsuit accentuated her lithe form, making her appear even deadlier than she did encased in metal plate.

"So you're the Illusive Man. Bit of a mouthful, really. I'll call you Timmy."

She met his gaze evenly, seemingly unaffected by his cybernetic eyes.

"Miss Lawson."

"How do you know that name?"

"I worked with your father. Are you interested in a job with our organisation? Cerberus is the guardian of humanity in the ..."

"Cut the spiel, Timmy. You keep me in cred, I'll take out your trash."

The Illusive Man leaned back in his seat and took a drag on his cigarette.

"Very well. Your first operation is a simple extraction. The Hanar have a space station upon which they store large numbers of Prothean relics. We need you to infiltrate the station and recover a specific item. You'll be partnered with Mr. Leng for this operation. Good luck ... Operative Zero."

###

Wrex lowered the spyglass and nodded to himself.

"Weyrloc attempting to ambush our force's leading elements."

Beside him, Inamorda and Pasana both chuckled. The colossal Seu'Seun turned to him.

"It appears this strange subtlety of thought is not matched by their subtlety of action."

Inamorda gestured to the surrounding mountainside.

"If we send scouts up to the mountainside we could spring the ambush then snipe them as they emerge."

Pasana shook her head.

"You do know we loaned you some air support? I'd like to see those Counters ambush an air strike."

Wrex weighed the advice from the two people he trusted most of all in his life and came to a decision.

"We'll infiltrate our scouts into the mountains, then flush them out with an airstrike. The snipers can pick off anyone who survives."

The hum of gunship engines filled the air with the promise of death.

###

Liara sat on the sofa in her cabin wrapped in a thin silk robe, enjoying the cool air blowing across her body as she signed off on the latest batch of requisition reports for her ship. The SSV Little Wing was a converted Singapore class bulk hauler, retrofitted with proton shielding, more powerful engines, heavy armour plate, a reinforced superstructure to withstand high-G manoeuvres and artfully concealed weapon batteries. While not a true warship the Little Wing was the next best thing. Liara had heard several Human crew members refer to her as a Q-ship. After doing some research Liara conceded the description was accurate.

Turning away from the reports, she looked across at the bed where two lithe forms writhed together beneath the sheets. Her body doubles, affectionately referred to as the Twins, had been two out of work actresses when Liara had picked them up two years ago. They had both become quickly infatuated with the mysterious Asari-Prothean hybrid, an infatuation Liara had manipulated using a combination of subtly employed Prothean touch-transmission and good old fashioned seduction to convince both of them to go under the knife for the cosmetic surgery necessary to become perfect doubles of Liara. The most drastic surgeries had been the hands and feet - other than that all there was to it was a couple of simple skin grafts using cloned tissue from Liara's Prothean skin. The illusion was so complete that the twins even had subdermal implants that coloured their blood turquoise. The only readily observable differences were that the eyes remained unchanged and the twins's nipples and genitals were still blue as opposed to the dark green of Liara's, but these problems were rectified by coloured contact lenses and clothing respectively.

Noticing Liara had finished her reports, the twins sat up in the bed, rubbing each other's bare torsos and smiling suggestively at their lover cum employer. There was always something slightly eerie about seeing two carbon copies of herself in her bed, however the illusion was largely broken by their eyes and lack of clothing. The one on the left, Shylene, ran her tongue over Mesara's neck as she rubbed her counterpart's inner thigh, stirring a familiar heat in Liara.

"Come play with us, Scarlet."

Liara let the robe fall open, both twins focusing their gazes on her displayed body as she slowly walked over to the bed, swaying sensually. By the time she got to the edge of the bed both Shylene and Mesara were eagerly pumping their fingers in and out of their azures, such was her ability to effortlessly drive them into an orgiastic frenzy.

Liara clambered up on top of Mesara, who lay back and licked her juices off her finger as Shylene, hand still working between her legs, performed some sort of three limbed crawl to position herself behind Liara and used her teeth to flip the hem of the robe up, exposing half Asari, half Prothean hindquarters to her questing tongue. Liara shuddered in pleasure as Shylene's skilled tongue got to work before gripping Mesara's wrists, pinning them to the bed and making her double squirm in pleasure as she slowly kissed along her neck and shoulder, then down. A wave of ecstasy surged through her as Mesara arched her back, bringing her chest up to rub slow circles on Liara's. She surrendered.

Even for the three insatiable women it was a long session, but not even Liara's preternaturally boosted stamina could last forever. At some point during the night the whips and chains had come out, which had led to Shylene tied spread-eagled to the bedposts, her eyes half closed and her chest heaving as she tried to force oxygen through her utterly spent body while Mesana lay face down on the sofa, a cushion under her hips making her private parts available as her wrists and ankles were bound together. She purred contentedly as Liara rubbed medigel into the wounds the cat-o-nine-tails had inflicted on her back and buttocks.

"Ah! That feels so - ah - good!"

Liara playfully bopped her on the back of the neck.

"Down girl. That's all for tonight."

Mesana tilted her head to the side and sighed, lethargically tugging at the chains that held her in place.

"It's not exactly like I'm in a position to initiate anything. Besides, everything between my waist and my knees is completely numb."

Liara chuckled.

"We're all going to have interesting bruises tomorrow. You okay there, Shy?"

The only response was a low groan. Still chortling to herself, Liara picked up Mesara and put her in the bed next to Shylene, pulling the sheets over all three of them.

"Ah, Scarlet? We're still tied up."

"Huh? Oh. Um ... Wait till morning."

Liara waited until the two of them were both asleep and then slipped out of the bed, putting her robe back on and heading to her desk.

"Resume recording. It took me a long time to let go of some of my more childish notions, but in the Terminus Systems it's learn fast or die. I may not have thought so at the time but Grunt's perspective was really something I needed while I was still finding my feet. He has such a simplistic way of looking at things, and at first I thought it was indicative of a lack of intelligence. It took me too long to realise he was usually the smartest person in the room. I didn't get that until after his Rite on Tuchanka. Let me tell you Mother, that was the most terrifying thing I have ever done."

FIVE YEARS AGO

Her four oldest Silvers, Grunt, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades had been acting very unusually the past couple of weeks. Usually masters of the Blood Rage, they had recently shown a disturbing tendency to abandon tactics while in its throes. In the end she had consulted one of her colleagues, Urdnot Hasok, about it. One thing led to another and before she really knew what was happening she was on Tuchanka.

Urdnot Wrex had looked utterly miserable on his throne as the green crested Gatatog clan leader ran his mouth. She supposed that was the only reason she got to see him without blowing somebody's brains out, that he was so desperate for a distraction. He had clearly recognised her, treating her with a toothy grin that was one part recognition, three parts intimidation.

"When that old bastard Massani told me to drag your sorry blue butt to his command ship I never guessed he wanted you to work for him. What are you doing on Tuchanka?"

Remembering her quick lesson in Krogan culture, she touched her forehead with her left hand then threw it out in front of her.

"Chieftain Wrex of Urdnot. My krannt-mates seek name and clan. Will you honour them?"

The warlord's eyes narrowed, but there was nothing in the law that prevented her from petitioning him on behalf of her krannt.

"Bring these children forth to stand before me, so I may judge them worthy of clan and name Urdnot."

The four Silvers stepped forward and onto the dais, each one holding an unloaded weapon out before him to demonstrate non-hostility. The effect was slightly ruined by the other weapons that sat snugly against their armoured backs but the gesture was the important part.

"I am Grunt."

"I am Zeus."

"I am Poseidon."

"I am Hades."

Liara stepped forward again and looked Wrex in the eye - no mean feat, facing down the grim bulk of the Urdnot chieftain.

"They were tank bred by the Warlord Okeer. Their parentage is unknown, but I stand witness to the strength of blood and bone."

Wrex leaned back in his seat, seemingly pleased that he was presented with a chance to derail the proceedings.

"The word of an outsider is worth nothing here. Can none among Urdnot vouch for these whelps?"

"I can."

Wrex's head span around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

"I, Urdnot Hasok, son of Urdnot Sakanar, son of Urdnot Vamer, son of Raik Skiran have fought beside these whelps and judge them worthy of Urdnot clan and name. I would stand beside them as krannt."

The enormous red-created warrior in Suns heavy assault armour was almost the size of Wrex, yet the tip of his hump barely reached the chins of the four silver Krogan standing beside him. Wrex humphed in clear annoyance.

"Very well. I accept your petition for the Rite. If you return you will be granted clan and name Urdnot. Fight well, for Tuchanka is a test few ever face, and fewer survive."

Liara couldn't help but feel a little nervous. The words had an air of ominous finality about them. Nevertheless she bowed to Wrex and concluded the official proceedings. Almost immediately the whining pup Uvenk started up again, only his slavish adherence to tradition having kept him from interrupting during the petitioning.

"Why do you let these tankbred stand before you? They are the offspring of a syringe! They aren't true Krogan!"

Before Wrex could reply Grunt calmly walked up and slammed his head into Uvenk's crest with enough force to knock the Gatatog clan leader to one knee.

"You complain like a Volus who just got ripped off. Speak like a Krogan or don't speak at all."

The change in Wrex's demeanour was very abrupt. One moment he was glowering at the silvers, the next his hearty guffaws filled the camp as Uvenk seethed, seemingly unable to summon words. Eventually the green crested Krogan settled for a lame cliché.

"You ... You dare ..."

Grunt merely sniffed disparagingly.

"You're not worth the bullet."

Complete silence fell over the camp as his words spread. Telling a Krogan he wasn't worth killing ... there was no greater insult. Before the situation could escalate Wrex stepped in.

"Let it go, Uvenk. The whelp will learn respect, one way or the other."

Seemingly mollified, Uvenk stepped aside and allowed the four silver Krogan, along with Liara and Hasok, to leave the dais and head over to the Shaman.

Following the confrontation before the throne, Liara was grateful that Grunt and his brothers managed to control their tempers during the conversation with the Urdnot shaman. The Tomkah ride out to the place of the Rite was silent, each participant mentally preparing themselves for the rite of passage. Liara had done a spot of research and quizzed a couple of Suns Krogan about it. She was not looking forward to the inevitable fight, not even with a Krogan warrior honed by centuries of experience and four genetically engineered supersoldiers laden down with so many guns they looked like ambulatory ammo dumps at her side. Even more so than the regular Suns Krogan, Seu'Seun weapons were prevalent among her silver Krogan. Most weapons used by Krogan were the designs of other races adapted with larger grips and, with only a few notable exceptions, looked comically small in enormous Krogan hands. By comparison Seu'Seun ballistic firearms had the complete package - enormous calibre, deep rumbly noises, belches of smoke, bone crushing recoil and, most importantly, utterly ginormous destructive power, everything needed to get your average Krogan going. A Krogan warrior was scary enough - a Krogan warrior carrying something that looked like it was supposed to be mounted on a frigate was brick-shittingly terrifying.

As the Tomkah slowed to a halt, the Shaman looked back at Liara.

"This is Tuchanka's most recent scar. The last surface city to fall in the Rebellions. Contemplate the Keystone and its trials. Then you will be worthy."

Hades smacked his fists together.

"The beasts will know I'm worthy!"

Grunt shook his heads.

"The beasts will know bullet and blade, nothing more. Let's get it done."

Liara pulled out her TCN5 HSMG. The big bad brother of the TCN4, the bizarrely nicknamed 'Happy Hans' was designed as a pint sized support weapon designed for suppressing enemies but equally effective at putting down varren in large numbers. Humming to herself, she loaded a high explosive ammunition block. The massive overheating problems of the old style HE ammo had been largely overcome, the main limitation of the new style being its prohibitive price. When she had mentioned she was going to Tuchanka for a Rite, General Massani had gone very quiet for a second, then unlocked his personal armoury and told her she could take anything except Jessie. That didn't make her any less nervous.

The Shaman waved them out of the vehicle, then quickly departed, leaving the six of them to pick their way across the arena. She looked up at the keystone as Grunt started ordering the others around, setting up to weather the coming onslaught.

"Zeus, Hades, shift that rubble into a defensive position and prep a Gritspitter behind it. Hasok, lay Claymores on all the ramps. Battlemaster, take the other Gritspitter over there, set up overlapping fields of fire. Poseidon, help me gather up anything of use. Water, medigel, weapons, spare creds, whatever all there or there, accessible from both nests."

Liara opened the large case and assembled the tripod mounted 'Gritspitter' HSW-112A HMG, still humming to herself. She had gotten used to being in charge, but this was Grunt's show more than anyone else's and she had no objection to him taking command. As she racked the last part of the heavy chaingun into place and gave the four thick barrels an experimental twirl, Grunt dumped the last armful of salvaged gear into the pile and ran an eye over the battlefield before slapping a meaty fist on a conspicuously large button.

The hammer fell from approximately a third of the way up the tower, making the ground shake alarmingly as the howls of varren filled the air. Liara pulled a Sharp from the pile of guns by her feet and rammed home a heat sink, raising it to her eye and taking potshots at the approaching beasts. On the other side of the raised shelf Hades followed suit, his own Sharp modified to accommodate his absurdly large hands. He wasn't quite as skilled as Liara with the sniper but nevertheless four out of five shots found their marks, rapidly thinning the varren horde. The pack tightened up as they were picked off, constantly working to reform the phalanx of jaw and claw that made wild varren packs such a threat to colonists and frontiersmen across the galaxy. Of course, it all played right into Grunt's paws.

The pack split in an impressive display of co-ordination, ascending each of the three ramps simultaneously as they closed in. Unfortunately for the varren, their famed and feared wall of animal didn't do them much good when Grunt blew the first set of Claymores.

The Claymores had been reputedly invented by Zaeed Massani after he had seen the twenty first century Claymore in an old war vid. They were essentially a one time use gun that shot enormous blasts of incendiary shrapnel when triggered. The blasts tore through the front ranks of each part of the pack, the varren in the forefront sort of ... disintegrating with a nasty sound partway between a splat and a splash as their momentum spread the clouds of gore they had become about four metres in front of where they had been shredded. The second rank got the incendiary part of the incendiary shrapnel, suddenly finding themselves unexpectedly coated in thermite paste that then caught fire, turning the savage predators into flaming balls of panic that jumped around like bizarre marionettes operated by a red sand tripper. The remainder of the pack panicked, some running straight into the enfilading fire of Poseidon and Zeus operating the Gritspitters, others fleeing to be picked off at range by Liara and Hades. One adventurous one somehow managed to leap up onto the platform, only to be flicked almost contemptuously into the air by Grunt's biotics then put down by a blast from Hasok's shotgun. Before long the entire pack was down.

The next time the Keystone fell was from almost two thirds the height of the column.

"Harvesters!"

They proved slightly more problematic. After two groups had fallen victim to more Claymores the Harvesters smartened up, dropping their Klixxen straight onto the platform. Zeus and Poseidon kept spraying them with the HMGs and the rest of them gripped their shotguns and waited grimly for the big one.

The big one came quickly. Not content with dumping their attack bugs in easily gunned down twos and threes, the two Harvesters harassing them dumped no less than seventeen of the fire breathers onto the platform in one wave. Grunt gave a laugh that chilled Liara to the bone.

"Heh heh heh."

Then the two groups charged each other.

The next minute and a half passed in a blur of biotics, point blank shotgun blasts and squirts of fire. Liara and Hasok ended up back to back at one point, each one ducking and rolling with practiced ease around the jets of flame emitted by the warrior bugs, splitting chitin carapace and soft flesh with their Eviscerator and Obliterator shotguns respectively and using biotics or brute Krogan strength to fling the corpses away before they could explode.

When it was over, Liara collapsed onto the ground, panting even as her hands automatically loaded a fresh heat sink into her shotgun. Beside her Hasok dropped to his knees, his mouth open as he gasped for air.

"Let's not do that again."

Hasok shook his head.

"First time a Harvester's ever done that to me."

Grunt paced over to her, fragments of Klixxen carapace crunching beneath her feet.

"Battlemaster, are you wounded?"

"No, just catching my breath. I haven't had that much exercise in a while."

She accepted the silver gauntleted hand, hauling herself to her feet as Poseidon slapped her on the back, mindful to watch his strength.

"Ha! A good fight, Battlemaster."

"There's one more wallop left in the Keystone."

She turned to look at Zeus, standing by the button with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Everyone stock up on weapons, ammo, water and medigel. I have a feeling we'll need to stay mobile for this next one."

It only took a couple of minutes for the whole team to stock up.

"Punch it."

The Keystone slammed into the ground hard enough to open fresh cracks in the masonry surrounding it. There was complete silence for about twenty seconds.

"Well that was anticlimactic."

Spoken too soon. Not a second after the words had left her lips the ground cracked open, revealing the last thing Liara had wanted to see. Hasok glanced at it as he and the rest of the team scurried for cover.

"Uh ... We're fucked, people. That's Antros."

"Who's Antros?"

The giant worm reared up and a painfully familiar blue corona appeared around it.

"That's Antros."

A thresher maw.

A biotic thresher maw.

Well that's just not fair.


	21. Innocence Lost (4)

A/N: Well, judging by the many reviews I have received, Threshy the Biotic Thresher Maw is now my most popular OC ever. I'll try to do the fight justice. Also I apologise to those who say I am jumping around a bit too much in the narrative - I'm just writing down these scenes as they occur to me and posting them in chronological order. If you guys would rather I had fewer longer sections in each chapter then please leave a feedback to let me know. Thanks for the birthday wishes also.

I've sort of decided to stick to Liara's story, the Krogan war and Miranda's misadventures with Cerberus. So I'll be letting the other characters lay (mostly) fallow for a while. Hopefully nobody will object too strenuously.

###

FIVE YEARS AGO

What Liara was doing was highly unprofessional, she knew. But to be perfectly honest, when under attack by a Goddess-cursed biotic thresher maw professionalism came somewhere between clean teeth and admiring the nearest rainbow on her priority list.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!"

The Maw reared back, crackling with biotic energy as a ball of blue light materialised between its jaws.

"FUUUUCK!"

Liara had so far been fortunate in her Suns career in that she had never had to face a powerful biotic before. It seemed karma finally caught up to her in the most dramatic way possible. The ball of biotic energy flung out of the Maw's mouth, impacting on the spot Liara had been standing seconds before. She identified the attack as a Warp field with a radius of almost seven metres, scooping a hemisphere out of the ground and scattering the matter as a burst of fine powder that hung over the arena, reducing the visibility by the second. She could faintly hear Grunt's insane cackling and the barking of heavy weapons as she slid behind cover, more out of a force of habit than any real expectation it would protect her.

The wind tipped her off. A sudden gust blew away the dust, letting her catch a glimpse of the worm as it reared back for another attack.

"SHOCKWAVE!"

The wave of blue rushed towards the platform and Liara shouted the only order that made sense.

"Brace!"

That was as far as she got. The colossal chunk of rubble she had been crouched behind must have weighed as much as a fully laden Tomkah yet the coruscating energy pulse picked it up like flotsam before a hurricane. Throwing herself to the floor, Liara managed to slip under the sixty ton bulk only to be picked up a moment later by the Shockwave.

Reacting on instinct, she focused her biotics and did something incredibly stupid. She biotic charged the Thresher Maw. As expected it didn't really work. As she hit the barrier her breath exploded out in a sharp whoosh, rebounding off the nigh-impenetrable shield and crashing back down into the pile of rubble, groaning. This was going to be harder than she had expected.

A hand closed around her arm, yanking her off her feet and throwing her out of the way of another warp as her lungs finally recovered from the brutal smash. She was almost certain that if she had still been wholly Asari the impact would have broken bones.

"Thanks Zeus."

Her saviour didn't reply, too busy sighting a hand mortar she could have fit her head down the barrel of at the Thresher. Scrambling away to avoid giving the Maw a concentrated target, she flung a pull-warp at the thing's head. The pull had no effect whatsoever but the barrier around the worm, appearing as a bright orange in her biotic vision, dimmed slightly, something the weapon fire directed at the creature had failed to do.

"Biotics have more effect!"

She threw aside the assault rifle she had grabbed, ridding herself of the extra weight as Grunt, off to her left, dropped the LMG he had been wielding like a pistol, tugging at the buckles of his armour as he ran. It was a sound move - disposing of any extra weight would free up more energy for biotic attacks and it wasn't like the armour would do him any good if he took a hit. Hasok, being the only non-biotic in the team, contented himself with popping smoke grenades all over the platform, concealing themselves from their enraged assailant as Liara pulled on some infrared goggles, allowing her to see through the smoke.

The looming bulk of the Thresher Maw towered over them, seeking a target for another warp as Liara and her team ran in evasive patterns, charging up biotic energy.

"Now!"

Liara lashed out her hands, sending a pulse of dark energy that latched onto the Thresher. Water started pouring down its hide as the biotic Dark Channel leached the moisture out of its body. The Maw seemed to ignore Liara's attack, instead flinging a cluster of Warps at the point she had been standing moments before. Screaming incoherently, she biotic charged out of the way, slamming into a pillar before springing lightly to her feet.

The four Silver Krogan accompanying her had timed their attacks to perfection. Four simultaneous Throws hit the Maw, their blue biotics and her green ones briefly coexisting before the pressure became too much and the Dark Channel detonated in the most enormous biotic explosion Liara had ever seen. The rush of wind blew over the platform they were standing on with the force of a gale, dispersing the smoke and letting Liara see exactly what damage the attack, powerful enough to implode a heavy tank, had done to the Thresher Maw.

Surveying their handiwork, she imagined that if it could, the fully intact and unharmed worm would be looking down disapprovingly as its barrier re-energised.

"Oh for fuck's ... Run!"

###

Miranda tugged at the hem if her dress, appearing for all the world like the shy fiancée of a wealthy Prothean enthusiast keen to make a substantial donation to the Temple of Enkindler Light orbiting Kahje's largest moon. The part of the enthusiast himself was Kai Leng, the assassin looking surprisingly dapper in a custom tailored suit. The two of them had spent the two day trip on a luxury passenger vessel bent over plans of the facility, planning the operation in excruciating detail and making contingencies for their contingency contingencies. Of course, Miranda knew the one thing they hadn't planned for would inevitably happen, but still it was nice going into a situation feeling prepared for anything.

Kai had noticed several things about Miranda. The first was how good she looked in that dress with her hair up. The second was that when she was focused on a problem her veneer of street thug dropped away. Her voice was smoother and more cultured, her posture was less hunched, her movements were smoother and her coarse vernacular was replaced by a surprisingly wide vocabulary. Of course, as soon as he made an observation to that effect, gangster Miranda was back in force. She seemed supremely unwilling to play the part of the trophy wife, requiring a good deal of tutelage from Kai to break down her coarser tendencies and expose the elegant, cultured side he knew was there. Now they were finally approaching the station and he had, after some convincing, got Miranda to conceal her tattoos with a set of elbow length gloves and a choker that matched her black figure-hugging dress. At her insistence he had removed the high heels, replacing them with flat soled boots, but other than that she looked every part the rich man's pet.

The Hanar standing? floating? whatever before them bobbed respectfully, speaking in the infuriatingly polite way that never failed to annoy Miranda.

"This one is pleased to welcome the esteemed Mr. Chung and Miss Adamson to the Temple of Enkindler Light. May this one be of any assistance?"

Kai bowed courteously, smiling at the jelly.

"It is a great honour to be here. I have been long fascinated by the Protheans and this temple is rumoured to be one of the most extensive collections in the galaxy."

Their guide drifted down the corridor and they followed, Kai continuing to exchange banalities with the jelly as Miranda surreptitiously activated the sensor embedded in the choker she was wearing. The sensor linked to micro-gyros in her boots and UV pads woven into the material of her dress, mapping the complex net of laser grids and pressure pads designed to detect anybody attempting to infiltrate the station using active camouflage, stealth shrouds or mass effect based tactical cloaks. Of course, even the most advanced such systems were rarely more than a minor annoyance to Cerberus Phantoms but they needed someone to map the system first. That was Miranda's role.

###

Fortack hummed appreciatively as his team laboured. His one true love was the creation of weapons, something he was highly accomplished in. It was rare for a Krogan clan to possess a weaponsmith of their own and Fortack's products were easily the equal of anything Turian, Salarian or Raachok weapon companies cranked out. With the introduction of the Earth races, especially the Seu'Seun, he had gained a plethora of new tech to play with. But this stone sliver of a ship, it was something else.

The task of reverse-engineering the ship into some tech Urdnot could use was one he relished. It had been two hundred years since he had faced a task purely cerebral in nature and he was enjoying the challenge it presented his brain cells.

The lab building had just finished construction, the building process massively accelerated by manufacturing nanotechnology supplied by the Suns. The ship's interface was surprisingly intuitive and Fortack had already powered the ship up, brought it to a hover in the cavernous space and then shut it down again. It was slow progress, and it would be years before anything workable came out of it. But give him a capable staff, a big budget and five years. He'd get it done.

###

The console stared back at her accusingly. She wanted to do nothing less, but she'd made a promise. The most recent mission hadn't gone so well. Theseus, Cronos and Hades were all in the medbay in critical conditions. The Batarians had somehow got their hands on a form of focused radiation beam weapon and the wounds it inflicted were stubbornly refusing to regenerate. Truth be told, she was worried sick. She told herself she had no emotional attachments, that if need be she could heartlessly sacrifice anyone for the greater good. General Massani, the closest thing to a father she had ever known, Shohon-Bchalxe, her quirky coffee-addict pilot and drinking buddy, even the two Asari she shared her bed and body with every night, so devoted to her they underwent life-altering surgery at her request. She could send them all to their deaths in a heartbeat, even if she was the one pulling the trigger. The one exception was her children.

She had created thirty six unique minds in the bodies of mindless drones. She had poured identity, memory, emotion - each mind was as much a part of her as her heart or lung. She wouldn't ... She couldn't harm them, or let them come to harm. Whenever one was hurt, she felt it.

Banishing her feelings to the back of her head, she hit the record button.

"Resume recording. Have you ever seen a Thresher Maw, mother? They're unstoppable forces of destruction. Now imagine you're being chased by one that's flinging Warps big enough to dig a mineshaft at you."

FIVE YEARS AGO

Liara ran. Legs pumping, arms flailing, breath hitching, sweat running down her body in rivulets and still she ran. She ran for her life. Having succeeded in royally pissing off a biotic Thresher Maw, it seemed like a good idea.

Somewhere behind her the ground erupted into an angry worm, crackling with dark energy. An enormous buildup of biotic power formed around it, the corona concentrating in its head. Liara recognised the attack. There was no way they were going to outrun this one.

"FLARE!"

Acting on an unspoken command the six warriors surged together, each biotic combining their strengths to form a layered barrier bubble as the evilly fizzing biotic attack erupted from their assailant. Time seemed to slow as the ball of energy approached, the four blue barriers and one green one seeming remarkably pathetic when faced with the might of Antros's fury. Hasok grinned at them.

"If there's a greater enemy to fall against, I'd like to ..."

Then it hit.

The world went white.

When Liara opened her eyes again the first thing she saw was the iron bar protruding from her shoulder. Then the pain hit, making her scream and sob in agony. Hasok appeared from somewhere, stumbling on a leg that was leaving a trail of blood along the floor.

"Scarlet!"

He ran over to her, pulling a regeneration spray from a pocket on his armour. Her whimpers erupted into full blown screams again as he slid her off the bar, immediately using the entire can of medical nanogel on her wounded shoulder to staunch the bloodflow. Using a strip from the leg of her tattered armour undersuit, he fashioned a makeshift sling for her inoperable arm before hauling her to her feet, only to have her immediately collapse against him, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched as the pain overwhelmed all rational thought. She felt Hasok scooping her up to carry her bridal style as she slipped back into the numb clutches of unconsciousness.

When her eyes fluttered open again she was dimly aware that she was lying on her back, her shoulder plate removed and her undersuit torn away over the wound, which was wrapped in a field bandage. Tilting her head, she saw Hasok and her four Silvers crouched around a distressingly small stack of supplies.

"We don't have enough supplies. If we're not out of here very soon we'll start to dehydrate and starve."

"We need all the medigel and regen sprays to keep Scarlet stable."

"She heals faster than most, but infection is still a real risk. She needs more water but less food than us as well."

She groaned weakly, drawing the attention of the five Krogan.

"Battlemaster, you need to rest."

"Wha ... Where ..."

Hasok gently rested a hand on her chest, preventing her from attempting to get up.

"The Maw's attack collapsed the entire area. We're in the City of the Ancients. The barriers saved our lives but only just and all five of you blew out your amps keeping them up long enough."

So that was the niggling discomfort at the back of her neck.

"What ..."

"Rest. You need time to heal."

Sleep dragged her down like a lead weight again.

"Battlemaster. Wake up!"

Her eyes opened once more. She was cradled in Grunt's arms, her form impossibly childlike next to his enormous frame.

"We've found a way out. Can you walk?"

She managed to croak out a word from her parched throat.

"Water ..."

A canteen was lifted to her lips and she drank deep, savouring the cool water as it hydrated her. She was gently set on her feet and stumbled briefly before finding her balance. Her limbs felt stiff but she forced herself to walk, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

The roaring of Krogan voices met her ears. Looking up, she saw hundreds of Krogan, all roaring their approval as the six of them, bruised, bloodied and battered, exited the tunnels of the ancient city right in the middle of the Urdnot encampment. Grunt roared in triumph, holding a fist above his head as the roar was answered by what looked like the entirety of Clan Urdnot.

Urdnot Wrex approached them, his earlier animosity forgotten as he grinned at the returning warriors.

"Ha! Not since the Rebellions has Antros shown up at a Rite!"

Grunt pounded his fists together.

"My krannt gave me strength beyond my genes, which are damned good. We were worthy foes for Antros."

Wrex nodded his approval.

"That you were. To survive a Flare from the Maw - you must have unmatched power. I've seen that attack shoot down Turian frigates during the Rebellions. Come, you must be exhausted. Rest and eat."

Liara had never heard a better idea in her life.


	22. Innocence Lost (5)

A/N: To respond to a couple of reviewers: We're not even close to the main section of the story. The real meat and potatoes are the Reapers and War arcs, everything else is mostly exposition. I could have done the entirety of the story so far in references and codex, but I chose to make it in story format. Yes, there's a lot going on. This is just underpinning the situation. Trust me, when we get to Reapers you'll see a radically different style of storytelling, one which you guys will probably take to much more readily than this info-mishmash. Again thanks for sticking around and making The Space Race my most successful story ever. You guys are beyond awesome, even the ones who leave bitchy flames for me in PMs. I love you all.

In particular I'd like to thank the following readers: AiSard and mivpus, for patiently reading the inane rumblings I send them as I bounce ideas and plot points off them like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape.

One more thing - I did in fact model the Krogan Alliance infantry squads on the Space Marine squads from Dawn of War. Several of my real life betas pointed that out.

###

The Illusive Man sat wreathed in shadows, anonymity and cigarette smoke. Miranda couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by the figure. If anything his vices made him seem more threatening. They gave the impression that the Illusive Man was human, not a computer or AI, and his manipulations seemed effortless. He was like a spider, fat and lazy in the middle of his web.

"Good work on the Temple, Miss Lawson. Leng was impressed. You're reassigned to Phantom training, effective immediately. Good luck."

###

Inamorda leaned out of the open sided gunship, one hand tightly wrapped around the overhead handrail as the other lightly rested on the stock of his Obliterator heavy shotgun nestled in the small of his back. Beside him, the Jorgal strapped into the portside Minigun position swung the weapon around, the entire armoured pod swivelling on a hydraulic arm. The pod could actually hang clear outside of the gunship for a wider range of fire, but thus far Inamorda had yet to find a Krogan willing to leave the gunship interior in the weapon pod. After one thousand five hundred years of no aircraft operating on Tuchanka, Krogan weren't great with heights.

In the cabin of the gunship, Liara sat in the shotgun seat, listening to the comm chatter between the pilot and the control tower through headphones. Beside her, Aphrodite frowned as she concentrated on the gunship controls. She was one of the female Silvers Liara had recovered three years ago when the Suns finally tracked down Okeer. She and her sisters had been kept in medically induced comas and used as living incubators for other Superkrogan, the foetuses being transferred to the breeding tanks after a week inside their surrogate mothers. While their unit was deployed on Tuchanka the female Silvers couldn't engage in frontline combat without distressing a lot of Krogan so for the time being they were sticking to support roles, manning the gunships and artillery platforms loaned to the Alliance. They weren't happy about it either.

The gunship came to hover over the Weyrloc artillery emplacement, miniguns stitching lines of bullet holes across the position as the artillery crews dove for cover. The Jorgal gunner roared in savage joy as his weapon raked across the makeshift barricade, sending up clods of dirt and chunks of masonry.

Inamorda waved his squad forward.

"Let's go!"

The ten crest squad descended from the gunship on rappelling lines, already firing one handed with heavy pistols as they slid down the thick cables and onto the ground. Immediately on landing the warriors whipped out their weapons, six of them carrying Obliterator shotguns, the other four being the heavy weapon specialists. One carried a heavy flamethrower, a Pyrocaster model, already aiming and snapping out huge spurts of flame. Next to him, the enormous Drau carrying the squad's Gritspitter braced himself, setting his feet apart in a wide crouch to absorb the punishing recoil of the four barrelled weapon as it let rip, torrents of heavy caliber bullets filling the air. The two other heavies were that rarest of breeds, Krogan twins, each one bearing the red crest of Urdnot and a heavy grenade launcher and a missile launcher respectively. For the time being they kept their weapons in hand but didn't fire them, the explosive radius risking damage to the artillery they were supposed to be capturing intact. As soon as the fusillade lessened the six warriors unburdened by heavy weapons charged, Inamorda at their head swinging his war blade from its position on his back as his other hand clutched a HAGR rocket pistol, a particularly destructive Seu'Seun weapon that fired clusters of self propelled explosive rounds. The squad's biotic specialist threw a Singularity that plucked three Weyrloc off their feet, to be finished off by three shotgun blasts. Then the two forces clashed.

There are few things in a galaxy more violent than a Krogan melee. Unlike Turian melee, which is usually over in three or four hard, straight jabs or kicks, or Asari martial arts where two combatants can slither around each other for fifteen minutes without landing a single hit, Krogan fought brutal, using their mass and momentum to smash through foes and pound them into pulp while relying on their regeneration to outlast the other guy. Inamorda swung his war blade, dense titanium-palladium-eezo alloy blade cleaving through a grey armoured arm, drawing forth a hot spray of orange blood and a pained roar as he followed up his attack with a headbutt, sending his foe reeling as he blasted his HAGR point blank into the unfortunate man's guts. He wasn't dead yet, but he'd be out of it for a good while and Inamorda didn't have the time to finish him off. He moved on to the next enemy, a corridor opening up in the chaotic melee and allowing him to charge, building up a good deal of momentum as he swung his war blade in a high arc, bringing it smashing down hard enough to cleave into the Ruttan receiving the blow vertically, biting into his hump and cracking his crest as he roared a challenge, lilac skull plate instinctively darting forward in a headbutt. Inamorda used that to his advantage, dipping under his chin before driving upwards, an armoured shoulder slamming into the fleshy throat of his opponent. A quick double jab broke their death grapple, the Ruttan's arms grabbing for Inamorda's wrists as he snapped up his pistol, blasting a cluster of rockets into his opponent's head. That was one injury not even a Krogan was getting up from.

He spun around, searching for other targets. Three of his warriors were down in regenerative fugues but they had wiped out the poorly prepared defenders, taking the artillery battery for themselves. Already a team of Suns technicians were rappelling down from the gunship to comb the weapons for booby traps before turning them on the Weyrloc defensive line.

For almost a week Weyrloc had managed to repel the Alliance attack at the final line of their camp. They were surrounded and had nowhere left to run, but they weren't dying without a fight. It was Wrex's hope that a gunship raid could seize the three Weyrloc artillery batteries and turn the guns on the defenders. Then they could finally break the siege and take Weyrloc for themselves.

###

Wrex smiled in smug satisfaction as the Weyrloc clan shaman approached. To bow before Urdnot was a bitter pill for Weyrloc to swallow. Of course, the clan leaders of every clan who had opposed the Alliance was dead, leaving it to the shamans to pledge their fealty in their stead. The Krogan were united.

Wrex couldn't quite believe it. He had united every Krogan on the planet. By Krogan law he was now Overlord of Tuchanka. Of course, the unification of the Krogan people had only been part of his quest. Now it was done, the real work could begin.

###

A/N: This marks the end of Innocence Lost. I know, it's far shorter than you expected and I planned, but here it is. I ran out of stuff to say, so instead of making you guys wait while I wallowed in writer's block I just decided to amputate and move on.

Next chapter is the first chapter of the Reapers arc. At the time of writing this author's note I've already made major inroads into the first chapter and I have to say it's turning out even better than I hoped. I'm super pumped about finally getting into the real story here and I hope you guys will share my enthusiasm for the new arc.

Finally: I know that there are many, many plot points left unresolved here. Fear not! Everything that has happened up until now will have some relavence either in arc 4 (Reapers) or arc 6 (War).

Again, thank you to everyone who took the time to review my story. Even the butthurt ones.


	23. Reapers (1)

REAPERS

Saturday April 20, 2177. A day that will become fixed in galactic memory. The day the Council and the Earth bloc learned, quite abruptly, that there was more to the galaxy than what they knew. The day of the First Battle of Eden Prime.

On the Obama-class patrol frigate USS Victor H Bensen, the day started just like any other Saturday. With huevos rancheros.

Lizzie stumbled into the mess hall, hair dishevelled and boots unlaced, her hunger having finally won its struggle with her fatigue. Every time the crew of the Bensen made port they had a whip round and bought enough ingredients for three days of James's huevos rancheros for breakfast for the entire crew. When one spent most of their existence living on MREs, known among servicemen and women everywhere as 'Pre-Digesteds' waking up to the smell of scrambled eggs and frying chorizo was nothing short of heavenly. That is, unless said individual happened to be on latrine duty for sassing a superior officer (again). Poor Kasumi.

James turned around as she shambled zombically into the mess hall.

"Hey Lizzie. Late night?"

She mumbled something that might have been fuck you as she slumped on the table, groaning. Staying up till three AM on a vid call with her Turian long distance boyfriend wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done.

"Well, the good news is it's Saturday. Huevos rancheros and real coffee day."

She seemed to perk up at the mention of real coffee. The vat grown synthetic coffee beans mass produced and exported by the Geth were all well and good for an instant caffeine hit but, being AIs, the flashlights didn't make very good taste testers. Real coffee beans were a stretch on the ship's already tight discretionary supply budget, meaning that like James's eggs, it was only available on Saturday mornings.

Kaidan entered next, tousling Lizzie's hair affectionately as James set a plate of huevos and a mug of coffee down in front of her. Despite the age difference being less than a year between the eldest and youngest members of the team Kaidan acted like the unit's designated elder brother, constantly looking out for his teammates in a way that was annoying as hell right up until he pulled their asses out of a tight spot or dragged said asses back to the ship after a bender on shore leave. Lizzie gulped at her coffee, ignoring the near scalding temperature, before turning her attention to the eggs, scooping some up with her fork and spearing a chunk of chorizo on the end.

The rest of the team filtered in among the rush of the ship's crew, each one receiving their own plate of what was effectively the innards of a breakfast burrito and taking it to the table usually occupied by the SEAL unit.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, the sounds of talking and eating replaced by the call of 'Officer on Deck' and the scrape of chair legs on metal floors as the mess stood as one to salute.

Lizzie had barely got her hand in motion when a familiar deep voice called out.

"At ease."

The mess hall fell back into their chairs, resuming their meal as Commander David Anderson walked up to the counter and took a plate of eggs before beelining to the SEAL's table. The SEAL team, as well as the detachment of twenty four marines aboard the four hundred and sixty metre vessel, fell under Anderson's command. He was skilled and experienced, just like the ship's captain, but unlike Captain Mikhailovich he was also popular with his men.

"Hey sir. When are we getting to Eden Prime? I reckon the crew could use some leave."

Anderson glanced up at Kaidan as the medic plopped down into his chair, having just gone for a refill of coffee.

"We should be arriving in around an hour at cruising speed. Got any plans?"

Kaidan glanced over at Lizzie, who was hunched over her eggs.

"I was planning to hit the bar with Ash and Jacob. Lizzie here has a hot date."

Lizzie didn't even respond, focusing on scooping forkfuls of eggs, refried beans and peppers into her mouth.

"I didn't think you drank, Alenko."

"I don't. Anything more than a glass or two of wine and my dodgy implant tells me all about it. Someone's got to hold their hair back while their jagerbombs make a reappearance."

Jacob snorted down the other end of the table.

"Speak for yourself, Captain Headbump. I don't have any hair to hold."

James called across the mess hall.

"That's cause when you let it grow it looks like head pubes, hombre."

The following obscene gesture had James clutching his heart in mock hurt. Ignoring the class clown, Anderson clapped Lizzie on the shoulder.

"Have some more coffee, it'll wake you up."

The conversation lulled, the only sound around the table being the clinking of cutlery as the occupants of the mess hall finished their eggs and coffee in relative quiet. The calm was abruptly shattered by the terse voice of Flight Lieutenant Halling over the intercom.

"Red alert, all hands to battlestations. Repeat, red alert, all hands to battlestations. Ground team to assemble in the shuttle bay."

By the time the announcement was over the mess hall was deserted.

The ritual was all too familiar to Lizzie. Uniform off, underlayer on, then the plating bottom up, boots, greaves, gauntlets, vambraces, chestplate, backplate, pauldrons and helm. Check seals, check plates, check seals again. Form barrier, release barrier, reform barrier, check seals again. Then check James's armour over. Run diagnostic on amp modules. Grab weapons. Check weapons. The ritual was one she had performed thousands of times, yet demanded every iota of concentration. One oversight could cost her life.

She was just slinging her final weapon, a TCN5 HSMG 'Happy Hans' on her hip when Captain Mikhailovich appeared as a hologram in front of the team.

"Commander, ready your team to drop in ten minutes. It's critical we extract the beacon."

"What's the situation, sir?"

Mikhailovich narrowed his eyes at James, but when Anderson made no move to reprimand him for jumping the chain of command he let it slide.

"Eden Prime is under heavy attack from unknown hostiles."

The entire team was silenced by that proclamation.

"There's an unidentified ship above the colony and significant groundside hostiles. We have to remove the beacon. To that end, we're co-ordinating with the HBF Talons of Nanus. Most of their crew are stuck on the planet but they managed to escape with a skeleton crew."

Lizzie's world shrunk to encompass three words.

Talons of Nanus.

Garrus's ship.

"What about the civilians?"

Mikhailovich shook his head.

"They're here for the beacon. It's too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else. If we remove the beacon we remove their motive for continuing to attack."

James cut in again.

"Mind filling us in, sir?"

Anderson turned to face the team.

"There's a reason we chose Eden Prime as our destination for shore leave. An excavation team recently unearthed a Prothean beacon. The plan was to use shore leave as a cover to discreetly shift the beacon onto the Victor. Nobody save me and the Captain were supposed to know of its existence until we were halfway to Arcturus."

"Prothean? Why the hell would we want that?"

Anderson shook his head.

"We don't. Our tech is on a completely different curve to the Protheans, after all. But the Asari and Salarians would pay through their noses to get hold of it. The plan was to use it as leverage over the Asari in some upcoming high key trade negotiations."

"Wait. If the Asari want it so bad could they be behind the attack?"

This time it was Ash who replied to James.

"No chance. The blues never liked us but there's no way they'd risk war just for one Prothean data cache."

Lizzie finally spoke up.

"Sir, what's the status of the Turian ship's ground assets?"

"All their ground assets are MIA apart from one team who they have sporadic comms with. They're under heavy fire at the beacon's last known location."

Lizzie nodded, crushing down her inner turmoil. Right now all she could do was pray Garrus was staying safe.

"The Marines will be the muscle of the operation. They'll deploy on the south side of the engagement zone in the Eagle APCs and make some noise. In the meantime the SEALs will free descend down the space elevator and insert directly into the north west sector of the engagement zone, then move along the Gotha riverbed to the beacon's location. We have only one piece of data on the hostiles, the comm transcripts from when the Turian team have got a signal out. They're not very helpful, seem to spend more time talking about zombie movies than what they're actually fighting. Be ready for anything."

The captain's lips quirked, as if acknowledging the absurdity of his last sentence as the hologram dissipated.

"Coming up on drop point one."

The hangar bay door slid open and with a roaring of thrusters the three Eagle armoured personnel carriers dropped out, each one loaded with Marines raring for action. Lizzie watched them pass with a neutral eye, worried expression hidden behind her opaque visor.

"Approaching drop point two. ETA one minute."

Anderson stepped up in front of his six SEALS.

"Alright. Remember your free descent training. Point your head at the planet and jump. Use your thrusters and gecko pads to reacquire the surface. If you jump too far, you'll pick up too much speed and you won't be able to reacquire, at which point you will make a mess on the planet surface. Try not to jump over a thermal vent, it'll cook you alive."

Lizzie clenched her jaw, trying to keep the eggs down as the hangar door opened once more, showing a view of the top surface of the orbital dockyard and beyond the alien ship hanging above the colony. The shape was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It looked like a space worthy termite's nest.

"We'll head directly down through the dock, then use a maintenance hatch to access the elevator trunk itself. Let's go."

Lizzie sprinted toward the hangar door, taking a flying leap and landing on all fours, quickly springing up again and unslinging her Gast's rifle from her back. Unlike most SEAL Adepts, Lizzie preferred the firepower of the Gast over the more lightweight Radiance carbine. Tucking the weapon's stock into her shoulder, she waited while Kasumi hacked and opened the hatch before dropping down and looking around, her squadmates coming down behind her. Anderson was third down, his own Gast's rifle in hand as he slowly turned on his heel.

"Shepard, Taylor take point."

Lizzie and Jacob stepped up neatly, their fire arcs intersecting as they made their way along the corridor to the spiralling stairwell.

"Commander?"

There was something in their way.

"The hell is that?"

The item in question was a sticky black mass of what looked like dense web.

"Burn it."

James stepped up, his Blitz LMG resting on his shoulder as he raised his other wrist. The Flamer nozzle fired up, intense sheets of plasma briefly turning the web into a conflagration, then ash slowly drifting to the floor.

Moving down, they encountered three more webs on their way to the bottom level, but no sign of their source. Other than that, they reached the maintenance hatch without incident.

"Intel is that the platform has stopped halfway up the cable. Nobody fuck this up, okay? Remember, thermal vents bad."

With that, Anderson swung himself out of the hatch, clinging onto the space elevator cable with the gecko pads in his armour. Muttering a quick prayer to whichever deity might be listening, Lizzie followed him.

The cable was disorienting to say the least. Lizzie latched on with her head pointed at the planet as per Anderson's instructions, upside down compared to the orientation of the orbital dock and the planet's gravity. Her HUD helpfully shifted, displaying the distance to the planet's surface. The orbital dockyard they had been dropped on was used as a terminal for high speed planetary transit vehicles, situated ten kilometres above the surface. Ten kilometres straight down.

Anderson was the first to make a leap. He pushed off from the surface of the cable, accelerating as he fell, using his armour's jets to swerve around the enormous hooks designed to prevent the platform from falling too far in the event of power loss and the plumes of plasma from the thermal vents. When he fired his back mounted thruster and grabbed onto the platform again he was two hundred metres closer to the planet. Beside her Ashley smacked her head against the elevator cable.

"Goddamnit."

Slowly but surely, the SEALs started leapfrogging down the elevator cable.

###

The enemy had given them a brief respite, something the six surviving Turians were taking full advantage of. Four of them were members of the Armiger Legion, the Turian equivalent of the SEALs or Spetsnaz. The other two were Spectres.

Nihlus Kryik groaned as he lowered himself to the ground. The attacking waves had been relentless. Their assailants were mostly human, or more correctly ex-human, but he could have sworn a couple of those ... husks had been repurposed Turians. He had never faced anything quite like it before. His HWSG X shotgun had been very busy, incendiary rounds blowing through husked corpses with alarming ease, and yet the monsters had almost overwhelmed them before scurrying away again.

Beside him, Garrus Vakarian crouched down, trying to repair a Phaeston assault rifle that had been used as a club and had several components shaken loose. Nihlus glanced over at the Phaeston.

"Don't bother, Vakarian. You won't be able to fix that without a replacement kinetic coil."

The young Centurion threw down the weapon in frustration.

"Great. Now I'm down to my sniper, which is no good against hordes of zombies."

Nihlus frowned for a moment.

"You Armiger kids have been calling these things zombies a lot. Sounds like a Human word."

"Yeah. A zombie is a hostile reanimated corpse. It's a popular concept in Human fiction."

"So you watch a lot of Human films? I didn't think many were translated into Turian."

Garrus shook his head.

"I speak English fluently and I know enough Russian to get by."

"Impressive."

Their conversation was interrupted by Saren.

"Okay, enough chat. Vakarian, take Sidarin and check those buildings for any supplies the US army may have left. Vorolan, Coltonus, search that platform over there. Kryik with me. Return to this position in ten minutes or when someone reports contact."

Nihlus walked up to stand next to Saren.

"Why did they retreat? They could have overwhelmed us. We were at breaking point."

Saren looked out over the field of corpses.

"Perhaps they were required elsewhere. The Americans perhaps? Putting up a fight?"

"Mm. Or maybe that US ship the captain mentioned before the comms cut out."

Saren knelt down and looked at one of the Husks that had attacked them. It was smaller than the others, the remnants of a pink dress hanging off it, the chest obliterated by a shotgun blast.

"No doubt these husks are repurposed civilians. We saw some wearing US military gear as well."

"The shields were a nuisance."

Saren clapped Nihlus on the shoulder.

"Stay sharp, friend. We won't remain ignored for long."

His comm crackled.

"Contact. I have no idea what those things are but they don't look friendly."

Saren slapped a hand to his forehead.

"I jinxed it."

"What?"

"Human phrase. I'll explain later."

Nihlus sighed and shook his head as he followed his mentor back to their position. It seemed he was the only Turian in the group without an intimate knowledge of Human culture.

The two Spectres slid into cover, unslinging their weapons. Vakarian and Sidarin were already there, alien rifles clutched in their talons.

"Found something I see."

Vakarian held up the rifle he was holding.

"M96S1 DMR 'Sharp'. I have always wanted one of these. Sidarin over there has himself a heavy missile cannon."

Nihlus looked at the weapon and did a double take as Serviceman Hadreus Sidarin piped up.

"I read about these. It's basically a Seu'Seun rocket rifle with the handles replaced and a tripod added."

The last two troopers showed up and took up their positions, returning empty handed save a bag of thermal clips.

"We brought these in case you guys found Earth tech weapons and needed them."

Garrus placed two Eviscerator-Five shotguns and a TCN4 SMG in the middle of the position.

"Anyone wants, now's the time."

Nihlus's mandibles gaped open in shock as the next wave of attackers crested the hill.

"What the fu ..."

He threw himself to the ground, a trio of heavy cannon projectiles passing over his head and leaving craters in the ground that glowed a sullen orange. The source of the cannon blasts advanced on slow, stomping legs, right arm replaced below the elbow with the weapon, left arm enlarged to match the monster's gargantuan proportions, a human sized left arm protruding from its hip.

"Look at the size of that thing!"

Saren rallied the six defenders.

"Less gawping, more killing!"

Sidarin gripped the handles of his missile cannon.

"Say hello to my little friend!"

Nihlus rolled his eyes.

"Another Human thing?"

The reply was drowned out by the booming of the missile cannon. The first impact caught the thing in the gut, making it stumble. The second elicited a pained shriek as it obliterated the bulbous sac on the left shoulder. The third hit full in the chest, knocking the creature to the ground. The fourth blew the cannon off its arm. The fifth destroyed its misshapen head, ending its struggles for good.

The next thing to appear over the crest of the ridge was three more of the cannon wielding creatures, along with a highly disturbing one that looked vaguely Turian, but with enormous claws and squat, powerful legs that crawled on all fours towards them.

"That thing is ugly as sin."

"Blow it up."

Biting back a curse, Sidarin held down the trigger on his missile cannon until the weapon clicked empty. When the smoke cleared there was very little left of the heavy units.

"We're out of missiles. Here's hoping that was the last of them."

"Or at least the last of the big ones."

An eerie chittering sound filled the air.

"You just had to say it, didn't you."

"Sorry."

###

"Nobody ever told me we'd be fighting frikkin' zombies!"

Corporal Richard Jenkins pumped the light shotgun slung under his Mattock-Ten, blasting another cluster of sledgehammer rounds into the chest of a Husk at close range. The Husks, as they had become known, had been constantly assaulting the Victor's marine team from the outset. It was only thanks to the guns of the Eagle APCs that the entire unit hadn't been overwhelmed. The high caliber autocannon were proving supremely effective at ripping through swarms of the zombie creatures.

Beside him, Private Raymond Tanaka sighted down his Axeman and put a three round burst into another of their assailant's head, making it pop in a grotesque splash of thick black goo.

"Jesus, that's nasty."

Jenkins dropped to one knee and fired long bursts from his own rifle, switching again to the shotgun as one of the Husks got too close for comfort, then raising it to club another one to the ground, another shotgun blast taking its head off as the heat sink popped out of the underbarrel slot. He took the momentary lull to change the sink in the main barrel slot as well, seeing as he was down to two rounds, then whipped the weapon up, eyes scanning the area for any imminent threats.

Sergeant Isis Mace, the squad's designated biotic, let the corona of dark energy dissipate as she surveyed the field of dead husks.

"Looks clear. Everyone stay alert."

The four man fire team moved in conjunction with the next team over, each squad consisting of an assault, a marksman, a heavy and a biotic. Between the two fire teams the Eagle tank advanced, held aloft in eerie silence by three mass effect boosted aerofans, twin linked automatic cannon turret swivelling in a search for hostiles.

A humming sound filled the air, startling the Marines and prompting them to dive for cover, the biotics erecting barrier bubbles as the other three members of the squad sighted down their weapons, each team covering the other.

"What have we got?"

"Unknown incoming. Stay alert, Eagle Two."

The tank never got a chance to respond. From points hidden up on the ridge, dirty gold beams lanced out, transfixing the lightly armoured APC and burning through the shielding at an alarming rate. The armour was hardly any obstacle to the destructive beams, slicing through the tank like butter, eventually hitting the fuel tank and detonating it in a thunderclap and a nova of burning fragments of armour. It was only the biotic barriers that saved the Marines from being obliterated by the wave of fire that washed over them.

With a couple of snapped commands, Sergeant Mace regained control of her panicking squad.

"Hold fire! Those positions are two kilometres away, there's no chance you'll hit anything."

The Marines reluctantly ceased their fruitless fusillade, instead looking to the sergeant for instruction. She waved them on.

"We continue with the mission. Tanaka, call in the casualties."

"Yes ma'am."

Jenkins advanced slowly, keeping an eye out for anything that could have been the source of the beams. He was on point so he saw the strange, chitinous weapon sitting on the fallen chunk of rubble first. He gave the area a cursory inspection for any sign of booby traps, then examined the weapon. His best guess was that it was some type of SMG, but the construction was so alien he couldn't really be sure.

"Sarge, come look at this."

The squad crowded round the weapon as Jenkins picked it up.

"This must belong to whoever was shooting those beams."

He squeezed the trigger and the weapon made a quiet hissing noise as it spat out a fusillade of rounds.

"Impressive."

He was brought abruptly out of his admiration of the weapon as it wrapped a tendril around his wrist.

"Jesus Christ!"

He tugged at the tendril momentarily, then shrugged.

"Must be a wrist loop or something, stops me getting disarmed. Pretty clever actually."

Mace frowned at him.

"You sure you're okay, Jenkins?"

He nodded happily.

"Yeah. Bet this gun does a shitload of damage."

Before anyone could react his arm snapped out, the muzzle of the SMG jabbing into the sergeant's chin. Her head disintegrated under the point blank barrage.

"Cool!"

He turned the weapon on Perez, the heavy weapon specialist. Her shield didn't last long under the sustained fire.

"Double cool!"

He turned to Tanaka. The panicking marksman grabbed his rifle and blew Jenkins's head off. The blood splashed over him, making him scream softly and curl up into a ball as the other fire team on the opposite side of the street stared in dumb disbelief.

###

"Heads up, we've got company."

Lizzie glanced up, seeing ... something crawling up the elevator column towards her. They had almost reached the elevator platform, stuck about halfway to the surface, falling down the cable in two hundred metre bounds.

"The hell? Those look like zombies!"

Anderson was quick to make a decision.

"Take them out."

Lizzie flared up her biotics, grimacing as the familiar surge of power flooded through her veins. Crawling towards the zombies climbing the shaft, she pulled out her Talon pistol, taking aim at the lead zombie. Beside her, James held his Eviscerator-Ten shotgun one handed, scrunching up his arm to brace the weapon against his shoulder. She squeezed the trigger, nodding in satisfaction as the sledgehammer rounds hit the first zombie full in the face, accelerating it towards the planet high above her head. Or is it below? Before she could think herself into another bout of nausea, she reached out with her biotics, throwing a Lash field into a dense group. Three of them were ripped off their feet, flying towards her until she cut the field, letting them fall down to the planet below. Above. Below. Shut up.

James's shotgun boomed, reducing another zombie to something resembling mashed potato as on her other side Ash calmly rolled an inferno grenade down the cable, up the cable, SHUT UP and hit the leader of another wave square on the head. The casing burst open, incendiary bomblets arcing upwards, no, downwards GODDAMNIT onto the followers of the pack, setting them alight, dropping off the platform and plummeting towards the planet as they frantically flailed, trying to bat the flames out. Lizzie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Okay Lizzie. Grow a pair. Toward the planet is down. Got it? Good.

Opening her eyes again, she raised her Talon, blitzing the last of the zombies and switching the heat sink before reattaching the weapon to her belt.

"Two more jumps should take us to the platform. Be ready for anything."

Gulping hard, Lizzie kicked off the cable, immediately feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as gravity snatched her away and accelerated her towards the planet far below. Tilting to the side triggered her armour's thrusters, swerving out of the way of a plasma vent, then dodging back to skim the side of one of the platform hooks. She kept an eye on the velocity gauge in the bottom left corner of her vision, her attention divided between monitoring it and scanning the trunk for a good landing zone.

An insistent beeping informed that her velocity was approaching the maximum safe landing speed as she finally located a landing zone. With a feather-light touch of her back mounted thruster she glided into the surface of the cable, arms and legs splaying out, gecko pads adhering to the surface as they abruptly decelerated her. Even with the shock absorbing gel layer in her armour the impact was jarring. She would be covered in bruises tomorrow.

Checking her HUD, she saw Kaidan and Kasumi coming to a halt beside her as the other members of the team landed on the opposite side of the cable. The platform was only one hundred and twenty metres away, so one more jump should clear them.

"Heads up! We've got movement on the roof of the platform!"

Peering at the platform, Lizzie triggered the zoom on her HUD.

"The hell are those?"

The aliens on the platform looked wrong. Brown chitinous bodies, elongated heads, faces featureless save four glowing yellow eyes and long, organic looking weapons clutched in their three clawed hands.

"Uh, they're armed ..."

The aliens raised the rifles into a stance Lizzie universally recognised, regardless of the shape of the weapons.

"Sniper rifles!"

"Go!"

Yellow-gold beams lanced up at them as they kicked off the cable, using their thrusters to wildly evade the weapon fire. It seemed the aliens couldn't sustain their beams for more than four seconds without needing to vent their weapons Council style. Lizzie had no idea of the destructive potential of the weapons and she had no intention of finding out the hard way.

"Anderson's hit!"

Fuck.

Kaidan pulsed his thrusters, drawing ever closer to their stricken commander and looping an arm around the unconscious man's waist before boosting himself towards the cable again. Lizzie came down onto the surface of the elevator trunk, closing the distance with a couple more bounds before landing on the upper surface of the platform. Grinning to herself at the abrupt return of gravity to its proper orientation, she fired up her biotics, in particular two skills. The first was the Annihilation Field. The second was Mak-Chan.

Pioneered at the Petrovsky Institute, Mak-Chan was humanity's first and only biotic martial art. Combining aspects of Krav Maga and the Raachok Hexhaxhe school of fighting, Mak-Chan was brutally effective at channelling biotics in close combat.

One of the aliens was different from the others, a slightly more greyish cast to its body and a larger, wider head. Spreading it's arms, it unsheathed a long blade, the same dirty brown and deep red aesthetic as the aliens and their rifles yet strangely resembling an ancient Japanese katana. The alien, who was undoubtedly the leader, waved his subordinates to return their attention to the SEALs still descending, then swished his sword at her. A challenge. Smiling sadistically beneath her helm, Lizzie triggered her annihilation field, noting the slight surprised jolt from her target. Time to dance.

Her first move was a flowing spin that parried the alien's sword swing off a mass effect boosted forearm, culminating in her wriggling well inside the bug's comfort zone and hooking a hand behind its head, using her leverage to yank the creature down into a knee strike to the face. She was rewarded with the cracking of chitin plate and a pained shriek as she followed up with a biotically charged elbow strike to the back of the thing's head, her annihilation field burning at its armour all the while.

It was quicker than she had anticipated. The bug threw itself forward into a headbutt, knocking her away, then swung the blade at her neck. She ducked, feeling the sword momentarily scrape across the top of her helmet as she lashed out at a knee. The alien skipped its leg out of the way, momentarily over balancing itself in the process. She took advantage of that to sweep its legs out, at the same time gripping and twisting its head. The bug's neck broke with a crisp clean snap.

Acting on instinct, she immediately rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a beam as the underlings, seemingly incensed by the death of their leader, moved to attack her. Grimacing, she pulled out her TCN5 and returned fire, warp rounds dealing heavy damage to their chitinous armour in a punishing fusillade as she dodged and ducked the questing beams.

A beam dealt her a glancing blow and she faltered, horrified at the drain to her barrier. The weapon had grazed her for half a second and taken down almost two thirds of her barrier. Reaching out a hand, she Reaved the nearest alien, feeling herself become re-energised as the alien's own barrier drained to supply hers. She couldn't help but pause for a moment to revel in the sensation before throwing herself back into the fight.

The unfortunate alien currently in a heap on the platform's roof as she Reaved it made for a convenient setup for a biotic detonation. Her Lash field locked onto it, creating an enormous boom and a blue pulse that knocked another alien sniper down for James to perforate with his Blitz. Kaidan bent over the wounded Anderson, stabilising him as Ash and Jacob stood over them, keeping up a steady barrage of rifle fire. Kasumi was in the middle of the fray with James and Lizzie, her Omniblade swinging as she flipped between the aliens, cutting through limbs and torsos. There was little cover on the surface of the platform, meaning the fight was over far quicker.

The last alien fell and Lizzie immediately took charge, taking over from the wounded Anderson.

"Alenko, call a medivac for Anderson. Everyone else, weapons check. Anyone care to guess what the hell these things are?"

James spoke up as he nudged a corpse with the toe of his boot.

"My uncle Marco's with the Blue Suns on Omega, says the residents tell stories about these creatures called Collectors. Looks like them."

"What do you know?"

He shrugged.

"Not much. Word is they're damn secretive. They show up in the Terminus and make trades with slavers and the like, really specific, like, I dunno, ten female Batarians with yellow markings, sixteen left handed Quarians, that kind of crap. They pay for the slaves with super advanced weapons, like these beam rifles."

Jacob walked over and picked up one of the rifles. Something extruded from the grip, wrapping tight around his wrist. He tugged at it for a moment before shrugging and raising the gun.

Suddenly Lizzie knew what was happening. As Jacob pulled the trigger she dove in front of Anderson, her barrier catching the brunt of the blast. Gasping in shock, Kaidan reinforced her barrier with his own, ensuring the rifle overheated moments before her defence was breached. Frowning slightly, Jacob lashed out with the rifle's barrel, clubbing an unsuspecting Kasumi to the ground and knocking her out cold before sending a biotic burst at James.

"STOP!"

Lizzie noticed Kaidan holding out a hand, blue flickering around him as he held Jacob in stasis. She immediately ran up to him and ripped the rifle out of his hands, lobbing it over the side of the platform before knocking him out.

"SEAL team to Victor. Require urgent medivac. Commander Anderson, Lieutenants Goto, Vega and Taylor all disabled. Assume Lieutenant Taylor is compromised, keep sedated."

The shuttle was only a couple of minutes away, disgorging a group of medics who hauled the four wounded SEALs into their vehicle, ensuring Jacob was appropriately restrained. As they were packing up Lizzie accosted one of them.

"Groundside comms are patchy. What's the status of the Marines?"

The Atavira rubbed at her breather mask and frowned.

"Bad. Almost half the unit is KIA already and we're getting a lot of friendly fire casualties. We don't wrap this up quick we could lose the whole team."

Nodding, Lizzie waved Ash and Kaidan over.

"Just us three now. Nobody touch any Collector weapons, okay?"

They both nodded tersely as they resumed their descent of the cable.

###

Garrus sighted down his salvaged Sharp, the rifle kicking back into his shoulder as he put a bullet through the head of the last bug. Once he was sure all the hostiles were down Saren walked forward, closely followed by Nihlus. Both Spectres bent down to pick up some of the weapons used by the bugs. Nihlus picked up one of the assault rifles that seemed to never need reloading or venting as Saren picked up an enormous weapon that Garrus was very glad the wielder never got a chance to fire.

Almost immediately both Turians grabbed at their wrists. Then two very different things happened. Saren grunted and hefted the weapon to balance on his shoulder as Nihlus turned and took aim.

"Nihlus, what are you ..."

Sidarin squeaked and dove for cover as Nihlus opened fire, strafing their position. Saren's reaction was immediate. He tackled his fellow Spectre, swinging the weapon attached to his hand like a club as Nihlus lashed out, trying to bring the rifle to bear on Saren. The elder Spectre had no choice. He jammed his weapon's barrel into Nihlus's gut and pulled the trigger.

The blast from the weapon obliterated Nihlus's torso, leaving a smoking crater on the floor as Saren wearily stood and called out.

"Nobody pick up any bug guns."

He was faced with the barrels of four rifles.

"You're holding one."

He waved it in the air, gesturing to his wrist.

"Cybernetic arm. Never been more glad my real one got eaten on Shanxi."

He looked down at the corpse of his pupil and bowed his head in respect and sorrow.

"We'll mourn the dead later. Right now we need to prepare. I can guarantee you they won't be leaving us alone for long."

###

Lizzie landed lightly on her feet, weapon immediately up and sweeping the area for any sign of hostile contacts. Kaidan seemingly stepped out of thin air, his own biotic corona dissipating as his own rifle panned around, seamlessly covering Lizzie's blind spots. The aura of cool professionalism was slightly ruined by Ash's surprised curse and bellyflop onto the ground, scrambling up a moment later to cover both of them with her sniper rifle.

They surged forwards as one, silently stepping along the bank of the lazily flowing river Gotha, sticking to the low trees that helped hide their forms, the active camouflage on their armour shifting to blend them into their surroundings.

Her comm crackled in her ear with an update from the Victor's ops centre.

"Lieutenant Commander, a Raachok Battlestar just arrived in system. They're ETA two hours."

"Affirmative. Thanks for the update. Shepard out."

The greatly reduced fire team made their way along the bottom of the valley, relying on the strip of vegetation allowed to grow beside the river to conceal them from any hostiles that may be in the spaceport complex.

"Hold."

The three SEALs immediately took a knee, weapons held at the ready.

"Company."

The Collectors picking their way through the trees were slightly different to the snipers they had fought on the orbital tether platform. They seemed stockier and were carrying three vaned carbines of some sort. In all there were six of them, led by another one of the commanders she had faced on the platform.

"On three. Ash, snipe the captain. Kaidan, lay down a Singularity on the left side. One. Two. Three."

As she said the word three, Ash squeezed her trigger. The Sharp she was carrying spat out a round that impacted against the captain's barrier, drawing a surprised squawk. The second round took down the remainder of the barrier and the third one obliterated the Collector's head. Meanwhile Kaidan lashed out an arm, a Singularity appearing in the midst of the soldiers and yanking two of them off their feet. Lizzie flicked out a hand, Reaving the rightmost one even as her Gast's rifle opened up on the one next to it. The incendiary rounds she had loaded stitched a line of fiery impacts up the soldier, barrier breaking and body catching alight. Kaidan and Ash both turned their rifles on the floating soldiers trapped in the singularity, quickly taking them down.

The remaining two soldiers reacted, raising their rifles and opening up, making all three of them duck behind trees. The three vaned rifles showed no intention of letting up, their lethally precise streams of fire chewing away at the SEAL team's flimsy cover. Thinking fast, Lizzie flicked out a hand from behind her tree, applying a Lash field to the closer soldier and yanking it off its feet and towards her. The volume of suppressive fire suddenly halved, Ash leaned out and double-tapped the last one standing as Kaidan detonated the unfortunate floating one with a well placed Throw.

"Good work. Let's keep moving. We have to reach the beacon before the Collectors break through the Turians."

Kaidan held up a hand.

"Ssh. You hear that?"

She paused, listening. A faint sound reached her ears.

"I hear it. This way."

She stalked through the forest, following the sound until they reached the source, huddled in a gap in a tree trunk. Lizzie knelt down and peered into the trunk. Four terrified black eyes peered back. Shuffling through her neural net, Lizzie activated a Khar'Sel program, allowing her to speak the most prominent Batarian dialect.

"Hey there. Who are you?"

The Batarian girl pressed herself deeper into the trunk. Lizzie knelt down and removed her helmet, smiling at the scared child.

"What's your name?"

The girl blinked the top pair of eyes and gulped.

"N ... Nari."

"What are you doing in there, Nari?"

There was a pause for a moment.

"I lost my momma."

"Are you hurt?"

The girl nodded, eyes filled with tears.

"Here, let me see. I can make it better."

After a moment's hesitation Nari crawled out of the tree trunk and held up her arm. Lizzie was struck by how small she was. She couldn't be more than five. She had a nasty burn across her right shoulder. Lizzie cooed softly, calming the girl as she rubbed medigel into the burn.

"What happened?"

Nari sniffled a couple of times.

"We were walking in the spaceport when the brown beetles came. Momma hid with me behind a crate and the nasty blue lady started bossing the beetles around. Then Momma told me to go play hide and seek in the trees and started counting but she was crying. I ran to the trees but the beetles shined their lights at me and Momma. Momma told me to keep going no matter what then she fell over and the beetles burned me with their lights."

Ashley stomped up to the girl.

"Wait. What blue lady? An asari?"

Kaidan held up a hand.

"Give it a rest Ash. The girl's just lost her mom."

Lizzie knelt down and rested an armoured hand on Nari's shoulder.

"We need to go get something and find some of our friends, but then we'll be getting away from the beetles. You should come with us."

Nari whimpered and latched onto Lizzie's arm.

"What about momma?"

There was a long pause as Lizzie wasn't sure how to respond.

"Is she dead?"

Not trusting herself to make a sound without bursting into tears, Lizzie nodded. Nari just held up her arms and Lizzie hoisted the Batarian child up to sit in the crook of her arm, tiny arms wrapped around armoured neck as the little girl wailed. Lizzie stroked the back of her head.

"Ssh, ssh Nari. You need to be quiet otherwise the beetles might hear us."

Her wails turned to silent sobs as the three man team moved out again. Kaidan on point as Lizzie had an extra passenger. As they moved along the riverbed, Nari whispered in Lizzie's ear.

"I miss my momma."

It broke her heart.

###

Saren fired the bug weapon he was holding again, the yellow beam spearing out and obliterating another cluster of enemies. The weapon, which Saren had christened the Beam Lance, had proven absurdly powerful, each charge ripping through enemies like wet tissue paper. It was unfortunate that the weapon had to recharge for almost thirty seconds between each shot but, having taken out what they were now calling a Brute in a single blast, it seemed a small price to pay. While the weapon recharged he jabbed the muzzle into the ground, resting his wrist on the handle and using it as a post to steady his assault rifle's aim.

To his left, Vakarian and Coltonus tag teamed, him with his salvaged Sharp and her with a Krysae, each shot finding an elongated brown head. On the opposite side Sidarin bent over the fallen Vorolan, patching up the engineer's arm where he had taken a glancing blow from a sniper beam. The bugs abruptly disengaged, unfurling their wings and flying off towards the ship that hung on the horizon.

"The hell? Looks like they're bugging out."

"That pun was terrible, Sidarin."

Ignoring the banter, Saren kept his eye on the surroundings, and so he was the first to spot the three figures emerging from the wooded area beside the river. Peering down the scope of the beam lance, he identified them as US SEALs.

The Humans jogged up to the Turian fire team. As they approached, Saren noticed that one of them was carrying what looked like a Batarian child. The leader, the one carrying the child, saluted him.

"Lieutenant-Commander Shepard, US Navy SEALs. What's the situation?"

Then her eye drifted to Saren's Collector weapon.

"Relax kid, cybernetic arm. I'm keeping this pointed at the bugs. You Adam Shepard's kid?"

She nodded, confused.

"Wow, you got big. Last time I saw you, you were the size of your little friend there. Now I feel old. Saren Arterius, Council Spectre. The bugs have been pushing us hard but we kept them off the beacon. Looks like they're evacing now."

She nodded and shifted her arm, better balancing the Batarian child on it.

"We got word a Raachok heavy's insystem. Could be it spooked them."

Garrus came up behind Saren. At the sight of him, alive and unharmed, Lizzie felt the knot of tension in her gut dissipate.

"Beacon is secured, sir."

Lizzie looked past Saren and Garrus to Kaidan, who was examining the beacon. He took one step, then another, leaning backwards alarmingly as his boots started to scuff along the ground.

"Kaidan! Hold this."

Shoving Nari into Garrus's arms, she took off sprinting, taking a flying leap and spinning Kaidan round her, shoving him away from the beacon but getting pulled in herself.

Visions flowed into her mind, filling her head with images of death and destruction as a mounting pressure built up behind her eyes. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was a colossal rumble, as if the entire planet was shaken. Then nothing.


	24. Reapers (2)

Lizzie's eyes cracked open and she looked around, feeling an unfamiliar weight on her chest. Glancing down, she noticed it was Nari, curled up and sleeping peacefully with her thumb in her mouth. The sight brought a smile to her face. Gently shifting the sleeping orphan off her, she sat up and looked around the medbay. It was crowded, to say the least. Kasumi and James were sitting beside a bed containing an unconscious and restrained Jacob, speaking in low, worried tones. Commander Anderson was lying at the far end of the room, typing on his Omnitool with his torso swaddled in bandages. There were seven Marines in the room as well, injuries ranging from a minor cut or burn to one man with no less than fifteen broken bones, a punctured lung and third degree burns over almost half his skin.

She felt a hand slip into hers and looked down, seeing Nari looking up at her with wide eyes.

"Hey there. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

Lizzie's stomach chose that moment to voice its agreement.

"Me too. Shall we go find some food?"

"Yes please."

A harried looking nurse rushed over to her.

"Lieutenant Commander, where do you think you're going?"

"Get some food for me and the little one. Don't you have more important things to be doing?"

The nurse scurried off, muttering things about stubborn soldiers as James noticed she was up. He limped over to her, grinning.

"Bout time you got up, Lola."

She nodded at Jacob as she scooped Nari up.

"How is he?"

James sighed.

"Docs can't figure out how to get the thing off his arm. Shadow's taking it hard."

Lizzie nodded in understanding. It seemed the only person oblivious to Kasumi's crush was Jacob himself.

Tugging Nari by the hand, she exited the medbay and headed out into the mess hall, immediately making a beeline for the fridge. Kneeling down, she pulled it open and peered inside, talking to the little girl beside her as she rummaged.

"Now I usually save these for special occasions, but I think this counts, hmm?"

She looked at the collection of pre-packed sandwiches, picking out a chicken and bacon Caesar wrap for herself and a chilli chicken, chorizo and chipotle mayo sandwich for Nari. Although the needle like teeth of the Batarians often gave the impression they were a carnivorous species, they had a second row of wide flat grinding teeth behind their sharp tearing ones. They were a surprisingly easy species to feed - an average Batarian would eat anything levo, the spicier the better. She opened the sandwich pack, handing it to Nari, before standing and looking around.

She was surprised to see the five surviving Turians sitting at one of the long tables, mingling with the crew of the Victor. She led Nari over to the table, sliding onto the bench besides Garrus. Nari scrambled up to sit between them, munching happily on her sandwich and humming to herself.

"Hey you. What are you doing here?"

He inclined his forehead against hers and sighed.

"The Collectors took down the Talon. Lost with all hands."

She rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He nodded, forehead still pressed against hers.

"Physically, yes."

He glanced down at Nari, then visibly cheered up and glanced at the sandwich packet the Batarian child was clutching.

"I see you've already started corrupting her."

Nari looked up quizzically at Garrus, who bent down and addressed her.

"Lizzie likes those sandwiches very much."

The girl enthusiastically bobbed her head, speaking around a mouthful of bread and chicken.

"It'sh tashty."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"You know, one time I went on a week long camping trip with her and that was all she brought to eat? This enormous stack of Roethman's Own Handmade Sandwiches, breakfast, lunch and dinner for six days straight."

Lizzie punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey. They're really good!"

"My sleeping bag still smells of pastrami."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before letting me get ...", with an abrupt glance down at the innocent child sitting between them she abruptly redirected the sentence, "... into my, uh, pyjamas in the, um, same tent?"

Wryly chuckling, Garrus put his hand around Lizzie's shoulders as he returned his attention to the vid screen, which was tuned into Citadel News Network. The Salarian anchor was talking about the latest smashball scores, drawing a frown from Lizzie.

"You'd think they would be talking about the fact that one of our planets just got razed by an Omegan fairytale."

Before Garrus could reply the screen abruptly cut to CNN's ridiculously photogenic Asari chief anchor, Maena K'Taine. The usual wolf whistles that accompanied her appearance on any vid screen within eyeshot of males were surprisingly absent, the entire mess hall instantly silent.

"I'm Maena K'Taine, and welcome to CNN, with minute by minute updates on the developing Collector Crisis. Since the initial wave of attacks yesterday evening Presidium Standard time, reports of Collector activity have come in across the galaxy. This highly aggressive species seem to be launching raids against any locations known to have Prothean ruins as reports come in from throughout Council space, Earth Bloc space and even scattered reports of attacks on Prothean sites of interest throughout the Terminus Systems. An emergency war summit on the Citadel has been called by the Citadel Council, with confirmed attendance from all Council member and associate races, all Earth bloc nations including the Seu'Neue Parliament, the Independent Nation of Tuchanka and the Rannochian Federation. Attacks on the military superpowers of the Turian Hierarchy, the USA and the USSR have been met largely with failure on the part of the Collectors, and the Asari and Salarian Home Fleets have managed to stave off the attacks with heavy casualties, but the Council's associate races of the Hanar and Elcor are suffering at the hands of the attackers. More updates to come. We now go live to our Thessian correspondent, Mauria K'Taine."

The screen cut to the anchorwoman's sister, standing in an Asari building wearing a heavy coat and a grim expression, a cut oozing purple down her forehead.

"Thank you, Maena. Approximately one hour ago a single Collector ship broke through the Home Fleet blockade and came to a halt directly above the major population centre of Serrice. The Home Fleet can't fire on the vessel without killing thousands of civilians trapped in the two kilometre radius established beneath the vessel, centred on the Temple of Athame. Within this exclusion zone the Collectors have deployed millions of insectoid probes that seek out organic life forms and freeze them in stasis fields. It's a stand off. If the Collectors leave their position High Command won't attack them but if they try to leave the planet they will be destroyed. More updates to come."

The camera cut back to the news studio.

"Thank you, Mauria."

Someone switched the channel to Earth News24, much to general disgruntlement. However the feeling quickly faded as the Raachok military anchor started speaking in his deep voice.

"The Mars incursion was successfully repelled by Soviet and American forces working in tandem. The Collectors lost all three cruisers sent on the raid but the SSV Pachyenkev and the USS Micah Samuels were both lost with all hands. In Earth bloc space the attacks were largely limited, we believe they were suicide runs designed to keep our forces occupied and stop the Earth bloc from aiding other parties attacked by the Collectors. Similarly the major offensive in Turian space was repulsed but with heavy casualties ..."

The reporter's voice was soon drowned out by conversation filling the room. Saren and Captain Mikhailovich approached the table.

"Lieutenant-Commander. May we speak with you and Nari privately?"

Confused, she picked up Nari, who was still gnawing at her sandwich, and followed the two of them into the captain's quarters. She was surprised to see Commander Anderson waiting in the cabin.

"Sirs?"

"Exactly what happened with the beacon?"

She dropped her gaze and sighed, waving one hand around as if grasping for words.

"Honestly I'm not sure. Lieutenant Alenko was getting pulled towards the beacon, some sort of mass effect field I assume. I ran at him, used my biotics to get him clear and the beacon latched onto me instead. It ... uploaded a bunch of stuff into my head. I blacked out and the next thing I remember was waking up with this little monster on top of me. It's all jumbled and I can't really make much sense of it, but I do remember one or two things."

The men waited patiently while she screwed up her face in concentration.

"There was a lot of hard data. Schematics for something but they're incomplete, a whole lot of information on the Collectors and something else as well, but it's not clear. It looked like a space battle of some sort. War, destruction, death. That's about it."

The three men nodded solemnly as Nari tugged on Lizzie's sleeve.

"Collectors are very old."

She frowned down at Nari.

"What makes you say that?"

She gave Lizzie a look that said 'are you really that dumb?'

"Protheans gone a long time?"

She nodded.

"Yeah. Fifty thousand years."

"So how do Protheans know about Collectors?"

There was silence for a moment as that sunk in.

"She's got a point."

Mikhailovich nodded.

"We ran a background check on your little friend. Turns out her full name is Narimaran Kol'Teqli. She's got an IQ of 203, a child prodigy."

Saren took one knee, bringing his head level with Nari's.

"Williams said you mentioned somebody giving instructions to the Collectors? A 'blue lady'?"

She nodded, wide eyes watching the Spectre.

"Can you remember anything about the blue lady?"

After a moment's hesitation, she fished a paper sketchpad out of the small backpack she had been carrying everywhere.

"I drew a picture."

Having expected stick figures, Lizzie was astounded when Nari opened the pad to show a pencil sketch so lifelike she half expected it to jump out of the page.

"Oh wow! That's a beautiful drawing!"

The subject of the drawing, not so much. The Asari depicted was wearing a set of armour that looked like it had been made from the same material as a Collector exoskeleton, a Collector assault rifle dangling loosely from her right hand as an Omnitool glowed on her left. She looked down at the Omnitool with an expression that was equal parts malice, rage and sorrow, her mouth open as if caught mid-sentence. She appeared quite mature, her features resembling a middle aged Human woman. Nari smiled shyly at the assembled group.

"I didn't have any colouring pencils. Did I help?"

Saren's mandibles fluttered but the rest of his face stayed guarded, making it impossible for Lizzie to gauge his emotional state. Anderson looked at it with heavy rage in his eyes while Mikhailovich regarded it with cool appraisal, such as is usually directed towards an opponent at the beginning of a game of chess.

"Can you remember anything she said?"

Nari pointed to the right side of the page, which was adorned with a column of hard, angular Batarian characters.

"I wrote it down."

She tapped a fingernail at the bottom of the column of text and started reading, tracing her finger up the page as she did.

"My patience is tested."

"The beacon's defenders are almost overwhelmed. Give me more time."

"The plan has moved on."

"No! Dammit, Nazara, you promised me you'd spare Thessia!"

"Your failure makes it necessary. I have promised you one thing only. Your daughter."

"You'd better find my Liara, you bastard."

"Finding her consumes resources that are better used elsewhere. You are useful. Do not fail me again."

"Dammit! You! I want a Scion squad at the beacon site now! The rest of you, form a perimeter and gather the Husks."

"I AM ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL!"

"Nazara, what are you doing!"

"I will direct this personally. Your skills are required on Feros."

Nari blinked and looked up again.

"That's all I remember."

There was a period of stunned silence, eventually broken by Mikhailovich.

"Sounds like little Nari here has an eidetic memory."

Lizzie frowned.

"I thought only Drell had those?"

Saren shook his head.

"It's rare in other species but not unheard of."

His voice trailed off as Nari yawned cavernously, rubbing her eyes. She tugged at the hem of Lizzie's shirt.

"Lizzie, 'm sleepy."

She glanced at her Omnitool.

"It's getting late. Bedtime, I think. She can bunk in my cabin. By your leave, sirs?"

Anderson and Mikhailovich returned her salute, nodding at her and sending her on her way with a curt 'dismissed'. Lizzie picked up the yawning Nari and carried her through to the officer's cabins, entering the third one on the left. With Garrus and Nari both bunking with her it was going to be cozy in the already small cabin, but Lizzie's maternal instinct demanded she keep an eye on Nari. Setting the Batarian girl down on the bunk, she pulled the sheet up around her.

"Don't I need to wash before bed?"

Smiling, Lizzie stroked the top of Nari's head, feeling the little puffs of air out of each nostril as she sighed contentedly.

"On spaceships everyone washes in the morning."

"Kay. Night night."

"Night night, Nari."

She turned the lights out and left the room.

###

In the middle of the night, Lizzie woke up. She and Garrus were curled up together on the floor of Lizzie's cabin, a couple of spare mattresses, sheets and pillows forming their impromptu bed. Looking around, she saw a small figure peeping over the edge of her bunk.

"Hey Nari. What's the matter?"

"I had a bad dream." Her voice sounded impossibly small.

"It's okay sweetie. It's only a dream."

After hesitating a moment, Nari hopped off the bunk and lay down, snuggling into Lizzie.

"Night night."

Lizzie felt a goofy smile spread across her face as she slipped back into sleep.

###

When Garrus awoke in the morning, he saw Lizzie sitting on the bunk with her little Batarian adoptee beside her.

"It's a nozzle in the ceiling that sprinkles water on your head like rain."

"Doesn't the water get in your nostrils?"

"No. On humans like me our nostrils are here, on our noses."

"But there's only two!"

"Yeah. Humans only have two nostrils."

"I always thought the rest was hidden under those strings you stick to your heads."

Garrus still pretended to be asleep, enjoying the conversation.

"So how do Batarians wash then?"

"We use a sponge. I have one in my bag."

"Okay then. Do you need help, or do you do it on your own?"

The little girl's face twisted into a rictus of horror.

"Help? Batarian ladies always wash alone."

She leaned conspiratorially in to Lizzie and nodded sagely.

"Washing together promotes immorality."

"So what do you need, a bucket of water or something?"

She pointed at the sink.

"Just that."

"Okay then. I'll give you some privacy then. It's that button to lock and unlock the door."

"Okay. What about him?"

"Hmm? Oh, he can stay there."

"But ..."

"I'm joking. I'll kick him out. When you're done, come to the mess hall for breakfast."

Garrus scrambled to his feet and followed Lizzie out of the room, watching her as she made her way, towel under arm, to the female communal showers. He called after her.

"Remember, washing together promotes immorality."

She snorted and gave him the finger as he headed into the mess hall.

Twenty minutes later, Nari emerged from the room clad in a very small US Navy uniform that had been scrounged from somewhere. She had no idea why the vessel had a stock of uniforms that fit five year old girls, but who was she to question providence? Most of the female crew were sitting around in bathrobes with wet hair, chatting and sipping coffee. Although not standard issue, any female US Navy servicewoman or officer would agree that a bathrobe was an essential piece of equipment. Lizzie was picking at a scrambled egg and smoked salmon MRE, generally regarded as one of the least unpleasant ration packs. Hers was a double portion for biotics. She had another one waiting for Nari, this one with a generous dash of hot sauce mixed in with the eggs.

The little Batarian clambered up onto the bench beside Lizzie and peered at the open but untouched MRE, a question evident in her expression.

"Yes, it's for you. Tuck in."

She pulled the MRE towards herself, digging in with her spoon. Across the table, Ash smiled over her coffee mug, speaking in English so Nari couldn't understand.

"You're making a great mom, Lizzie."

"This isn't permanent. I'm just taking care of her until we can find her legal guardian."

Ash shook her head.

"You know as well as I do that letting her go won't be easy. Besides, Anderson checked her up. Her mom was her last living relative."

Lizzie fell silent, mulling over what Ash had just told her. It was true she had become strongly attached to the adorable little thing. She had a sneaking suspicion Ash was correct.

###

Nari pressed her face to the glass of the observation deck, oohing and aahing in amazement. She had never been to the Citadel before. Seeing so many ships all together was amazing, the most spectacular sight she had seen in all her five years of life.

She peered at each ship in turn, committing every single one to her perfect memory the way Dadda and Uncle Vree had taught her back home. Asari cruiser, Elcor freighter, Salarian dreadnought. She could remember dressing up back home and going out on picnics with Momma and Dadda, and sometimes Uncle Vree too. Dadda had always told her to watch the spaceport which she could see clearly from their picnic spot and remember every ship, when it landed or took off. When they went back home she would write them all down on Dadda's Omnitool and he would buy her another Chathis card if she did well.

She also remembered the last night she saw Dadda. How could she not? Dadda and some of the slaves had guns, and outside there were some policemen shouting through one of those loud cones. Dadda had told her to go with Momma into the secret tunnel and be good. She went with Momma and behind her she heard Dadda shooting his gun, but then Momma closed the secret tunnel.

They had hidden on a big ship, then snuck onto another ship that took them to a different planet. They had stayed on the new planet for a long time. Nari had liked the new planet. Nobody was slaves on the new planet, and the policemen were nice and not scary like the old planet, but she missed Dadda and Uncle Vree. Sometimes when she was sad she would go to the hill next to the spaceport on the new planet and remember all the spaceships. The new planet had lots more spaceships, not just the square Batarian ones. There were USA and Russian and Raachok and Turian and Volus ones too. She learned them all.

Then some Humans came to see Momma one day. Momma had made grown up drinks and talked to the Humans in the kitchen while she played with her Chathis cards in the living room. Then Momma came in after the Humans left and said that she had a new job with the Humans, to help people who told the nice Batarians what the mean Batarians were doing so the nice Batarians could stop them. She said she would be working in a room with lots of computers and gadgets and she would get lots of money, but they needed to move to a different planet.

Nari had been sad because she had friends on the planet but Momma's job sounded cool and important so she didn't make a fuss. They went on another spaceship but this time they sat in the seats instead of hiding with the bags. There was a nice Human lady on the spaceship who gave them drinks and pulled funny faces to make Nari laugh.

When they got to the new planet Momma went to her new job and had lots of money, but Nari was sad because she missed her friends and all the children at the new school said mean things to her. Then the beetles came and took her Momma away. Nari was very sad but Lizzie took care of her and so she wasn't lonely anymore.

Right now, Lizzie was standing next to her talking to her Turian friend. At first Nari had been scared of the Turian but he had been nice to her while Lizzie was asleep in the hospital so she liked him.

Off to her left, Lizzie and Garrus were talking about the view of the Citadel.

"I reckon it would be more sensible to hold this summit on Arcturus Station."

"Really? The Citadel's the most central location in the galaxy."

"Yeah, but Arcturus Station was built as the united military headquarters during the Seu'Seun war. The thing's got enough weapon emplacements and shield generators to singlehandedly trash an entire Seu'Seun armada, and it's military. The Citadel's too open to be an effective military HQ."

"If you close up the arms the Citadel's practically impervious to dreadnought cannon fire, and it has its own standing army."

Lizzie looked out of the window. She had spent most of her childhood on starships with her mother or in their US Navy issue apartment in Vancouver overlooking the space elevator, but for her, home was Arcturus Station, where the ships she was growing up on came in to dock. She could remember playing Marines and Slavers in a hangar bay with the other Navy brats, using fighters and repair stations as cover as the heroic Marines once again defeated the evil slavers. Nevertheless, she had to admit the Citadel was impressive, in the same way that any Prothean ruin was. A testament to a long dead people and their engineering prowess. Sometimes she found the pride with which Council races held their stronghold vaguely irritating. They didn't build the damn thing. It was like finding a painting in a warehouse, pinning it to your wall and saying 'Look what I did' to all your friends about it.

The intercom crackled with Flight Lieutenant Halling's deep South African accent.

"Attention all hands, we are now docking at the Citadel. The following individuals to report to the CIC: Anderson, Shepard, Williams, Alenko, Arterius, Vakarian, Sidarin, Vorolan, Coltonus, Kol'Teqli. All other hands at liberty."

Nari looked up at Lizzie.

"That's me."

She nodded.

"And me too. Come on then. We've got a meeting to attend."


	25. Reapers (3)

A/N: This chapter didn't really flow for me. I apologise if it seems rushed to any of you guys.

###

Neither Lizzie or Garrus had the security clearance to attend the summit itself, instead submitting their reports to Saren and heading out into the Citadel. Nari needed some proper clothes and Lizzie wanted to do the tourist circuit, so they made their way to Tayseri ward to hit the shops.

Four yellow eyes shone from the shadows. The brown chitinous barrel of a sniper rifle swung round, coming to bear on the red hair that lit up the store like a beacon. The Collector behind the sniper rifle rustled its wing cases. Sneaking onto the Citadel had been all too easy. For all their vigilance, C-sec didn't know their station even one per cent as well as its creators.

The Collector shifted its aim, briefly wondering if it could shoot through the Batarian and still hot the Human. However it quickly rejected the notion - the Batarian was not the target.

The soft purring whisper of its master sounded in its head, the silky voice twisting what little remained of the Collector's mind to its will.

Take the shot.

Kill.

The scope centred on the Human target's head.

It pulled the trigger.

Lizzie's instincts told her something was wrong the instant before the golden beam lanced out from the rooftop of the adjacent building. She threw herself to the side, erecting a biotic barrier that deflected the glancing blow from the sniper as she reached into her jacket and pulled out her Navy issue SN7 sidearm. Garrus instantly dropped to a crouch, pulling Nari behind cover as his own sidearm, this time a Turian Mataris model, materialised in his hand. Nari yelped and cowered behind Garrus as the two soldiers communicated through hand signals. Lizzie leaned out of cover and peeped round the sturdy shelves, whipping back just in time to avoid a beam to the face. As the sniper was focused on Lizzie, Garrus quietly ushered Nari out of the shop and towards a waiting aircar.

Waiting until every screaming citizen had either gone to ground or fled, Lizzie strengthened her barrier before popping out from behind the shelves and sending a spray of rounds at her unseen assailant. The sniper responded with another particle beam, but the wavering of the aim told her that she'd hit something.

"Lizzie, jump in!"

She sprinted through the store, hurling herself into the aircar's passenger seat.

"Get after him!"

He gave her a warning glare.

"Lizzie ..."

"Fucker took a shot at me, get after him!"

He growled low in his throat as he pulled away, throttling the vehicle to an absurd speed as they rocketed towards the rooftop from which the sniper had taken a shot. Lizzie looked around the vehicle.

"Got anything heavier than a pistol stashed in here?"

"Just a personal K-barrier generator. I'm not one of these crazy survivalist types who drives around with a missile launcher on the backseat."

The car surged upwards, allowing Lizzie to get a good look down at the sniper. It seemed she had clipped the Collector in the right arm - the limb hung uselessly by its side. With its left arm it was doing something with its sniper rifle.

"Got you."

The Collector chittered as it swung its left arm up, hurling the sniper rifle at the car as it sprinted towards an access port for the Keeper tunnels. Lizzie opened her mouth to spit out another hated comment when the rifle detonated.

The blossom of yellow plasma from the violently overheating weapon smacked into the underside of the car, knocking the thrusters out of commission and buckling the entire cabin. Nari screamed shrilly as Garrus wrestled with the non-responsive controls.

"Use your biotics!"

Surrounding the car in a mass-lightening field allowed Garrus to use the one remaining thruster to decelerate them just enough that the car wasn't smashed on impact. There was a blessed moment of silence before Nari's agonised howls filled the vehicle.

###

Lizzie paced up and down the waiting room of Huerta Memorial. Ever since the crash she had been beating herself up about it and Garrus hadn't said a word to her the whole time. He seemed very, very angry.

She spun round as a doctor entered the room, Nari walking behind him with her arm in a cast. Initially ignoring the doctor, she scooped up the Batarian child and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then she turned to the doctor.

"Thank you so much, Doctor."

The Salarian nodded rapidly.

"Mm, yes. Clean break. With splint and cast should heal nicely. Bone weave not necessary, good thing, better to heal naturally. Take care, you may leave, goodbye."

Nari buried her face in Lizzie's shirt and mumbled something before perking up and looking around.

"Milkshake?"

Lizzie faintly recalled promising Nari a milkshake while they rode in the ambulance in a desperate attempt to stop her crying. Goddamn eidetic memory. After the attempted assassination C-sec had confined her to the Presidium while they combed the Wards for any sign of the Collector who attacked her, so her favourite gelateria on Bachjret ward was off limits.

"Hey Garrus, you know anywhere on the Presidium that does milkshake?"

A talon poked her hard in the chest.

"This is your fault. You were too damn reckless and look what happened."

She immediately went on the defensive.

"My fault? You were *urk*"

Garrus had wrapped both her and Nari in an enormous bear hug.

"Just ... Just promise me you'll be more careful in future."

After a moment of dumb surprise she leaned into the hug, patting Garrus on the back.

"Okay. I promise."

"So. Milkshake, then."

###

Anderson pinged the C-sec report to Saren's Omnitool. The Turian Spectre surreptitiously read it, then nodded briefly and sent back a reply.

-Citadel not secure

On the opposite side of the room, the Krogan leader, Urdnot Wrex, and his second, Ravanor Inamorda, muttered to each other as they kept their eyes on the swivel. Anderson knew the feeling, like an itching between his shoulderblades, the sensation that shit was about to match coordinates with the fan.

Following the Krogan overlord's gaze, he noticed the red plated Krogan was trying to keep an eye on every single Keeper maintenance catwalk at once. He met Wrex's eyes, then glanced meaningfully up at the catwalks directly above the Krogan. The message was clear. I'll watch that one.

He wasn't quite sure who reacted first, him, Saren or Inamorda. He saw four yellow eyes and pulled out his sidearm as Saren erected a biotic barrier round the table and something appeared in Inamorda's hands. Anderson had just enough time to think 'holy shit! He's got a stealth shrouded autocannon!' before all hell broke loose.

The first five seconds of the firefight separated the armchair strategists from those who had actually served along the neat line of screaming in panic vs. diving for cover, grabbing for sidearms or biotic abilities. Wrex joined Inamorda in pulling out a stealth capable minigun from somewhere, the four barrelled weapons spinning up with an ominous hum before unleashing hell on the Collectors on the upper balcony.

A lone Collector leaped down from the catwalks, holding an assault rifle in each hand as chitinous feet scrabbled across the table. Unlike other Collector warriors, this one had alien red symbols painted on its exoskeleton and seemed to look around with a cold intelligence behind its gaze. Anderson could tell the newcomer was dangerous.

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL"

The painted Collector threw its arms out to the side, lifting off the ground as fiery cracks opened up in its carapace. Saren waved an arm.

"Everyone else focus on the others. I'll handle this one."

The Collector seemed to like that answer. It levelled both assault rifles at Saren as the Spectre jumped up onto the table, biotics flowing over his body as he formed a protective barrier, awaiting the start of his duel with the burning creature that stood before him.

"Your form is fragile."

The Collector's voice was deep, distorted and raspy, yet beneath it all the tone was almost ... curious.

"Resistance is pointless. Kill one and one hundred will replace it."

Saren summoned a Warp field, energy swirling around his palm.

"You want to fight, let's fight. You want to keep monologuing, let me know when you're done."

The Collector levelled both rifles at Saren.

"A pity. You would have made a useful tool."

The Warp field lashed out from Saren's hand as the fiery Collector unleashed both rifles, microscopic globules of hyper-accelerated molten metal becoming distorted by the passage of the Warp projectile as it unerringly homed in on its target.

The initial spray of rounds splashed against Saren's barrier at the same time as the Warp attack hit the Collector. Both combatants staggered back under the force of the impacts, their focus momentarily broken as each one focused on repairing their biotic barriers. Saren's biotics were some of the most powerful out there - in fact, he was arguably the strongest Turian biotic in recorded history - but this Collector was easily keeping pace with its barrier. The creature clicked to itself as it slung its rifles on its back, the neural spikes retracting smoothly from its wrists. The neural spike from the heavy rifle Saren had picked up had been easily picked out from his cybernetic arm - the problem with them was that in biological material they produced microfibres that latched onto the victim's sensory neurones, extending right into the central nervous system. Apparently the Collectors could remove these microfibres at will, something he should look into.

His wandering train of thought was broken off by a yellow aura appearing around the Collector's right hand. He knew that aura, if the colour was unfamiliar. Biotics. Wonderful.

With a flick of its wrist, the Collector sent a yellow biotic orb flying at him. He rolled to the side, returning the favour with another Warp that impacted the creature's barrier, weakening it slightly. The Collector responded with another attack that slammed into his barrier. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the biotic attack, like a Warp on steroids, sent his nerves into overdrive, shooting pain signals through his body.

"Gah ... Fuck!"

He rolled a biotic orb in each hand, flinging a double warp at the alien. Double warps were an advanced and exhausting biotic technique, the fields combining to negate the biotic barrier and apply warping damage directly to the Collector's chitinous armour. Saren's amp buzzed its displeasure as heat spiked in the back of his head, but the attack had been successful. The biotic aura was slowly splitting the Collector open, chunks of exoskeleton falling off and flaking to the floor.

"Turian!"

The Krogan Overlord threw him a shotgun. He snatched the enormous weapon out of the air, briefly staggering under the weight of the weapon before dragging it up and jamming the muzzle into the Collector's head.

The weapon's recoil was powerful enough to knock Saren to the other side of the room as the blitz of flechettes reduced his foe's head to mist. The headless body collapsed, the fiery light inside it flaring up and dissolving it into a nasty orange paste. He glanced up at Anderson as the Human approached, concerned.

"The Citadel isn't secure. We should move this elsewhere."

Anderson hauled his Spectre friend to his feet.

"I think it's about time we activated the project."

###

Lizzie anxiously hopped from foot to foot as she waited for Anderson and Saren. They had sent her a cryptic message telling her to meet them at dock D24, and she had immediately made a beeline for the location.

Beside her, Nari sat on Garrus's shoulders and slurped her chocolate milkshake, the cup held in her right hand as her left arm rested in a sling across her chest. Because of the little girl on his shoulders blocking his fringe, Garrus's eyes were directed towards the ground as his entire head bent forwards at an awkward angle.

She looked up sharply as Saren and Anderson approached her.

"Lieutenant Commander, Centurion. You have both been reassigned to our investigation team."

Saren gestured grandly out of the window.

"Welcome to the Normandy Project."


	26. Reapers (4)

Lizzie stared at the ship in front of her. She had seen hundreds of ships, big, small, old, new, hell, she had practically grown up on ships. None were as beautiful as the ship she was looking at.

The Normandy's lines were clearly based on Atavira ship design yet the vessel's contours were smoother, sleeker and just more pleasing to the eye than any other Atavira vessel. Her hull was jet black and tiled with a hexagonal pattern that told her the vessel was equipped with an advanced stealth shroud. The phased proton thrusters gave off a faint mauve glow as the HR motors slowly rotated in their housings. She was mesmerised.

Saren chuckled as he watched Lizzie, Garrus and Nari stare in dumb amazement.

"Would you like to come aboard?"

The interior was just as sleek as the exterior. Looking round, Lizzie saw that the crew was mixed Human, Turian and Atavira. Where the exterior was distinctly Atavira, the interior of the CIC had a Turian feel to it, the centre of the wide curving room dominated by the captain's pedestal and the galaxy map. Saren led the way into the ship, speaking as he went.

"Welcome to the AMRF Normandy, flagship of the Evolution project, a joint project between the Hierarchy, the USA and Emaris to produce a new generation of fighting equipment. Everything on this vessel is cutting edge, from the weapons to the shields to the engines. And we get to take her on her maiden voyage."

Saren led them into the briefing room. Inside the room were seated eight individuals, each one looking up as the remainder of the team entered and took their seats. Lizzie nodded at Ash and Kaidan as Saren took position at the head of the table.

"Thank you all for coming. As all of you are probably aware, my name is Saren Arterius, Council Spectre. This is Commander David Anderson of the US SEALs and Priestess Mauri Auhelu of the Emaris Commandoes."

He paused for a moment, gesturing to Nari, who chose that moment to slurp her milkshake and look around nervously.

"Thanks to this child, we have identified a high profile Asari Matriarch named Benezia T'Soni as being linked to the Collector commander, referred to only as Nazara. It is this ship's, and this team's, mission to hunt down Benezia and through doing so, identify and neutralise Nazara. We also have a team of the most intelligent and talented scientists and engineers in the galaxy aboard, who will work to reverse engineer any Collector technology we recover into something we can use against the enemy. Our first destination is Grissom Academy. A couple of students have developed a signal jamming algorithm that could be adapted to counteract Collector communications."

He paused for a moment and met the eye of each person sitting around the conference table.

"Our actions will have considerable influence on the future of this galaxy. I hope you all bear that in mind as we proceed. Dismissed."

The ground team filed out of the briefing room, four Humans, four Turians and four Atavira along with a small Batarian child. Garrus plucked Nari off his shoulders and set her on the ground.

"I'll get our stuff set up in the officer's cabins. Go explore the ship."

Briefly patting him on the shoulder, Lizzie made her way forward to the cockpit. In the pilot's chair was an Atavira, her hands playing over the consoles with the flair of a concert pianist. The woman seemed to be wearing armour gauntlets - no, she corrected herself, that was the natural bone plating of the Auwl subspecies. She immediately felt her estimation of the pilot pre-emptively drop; Auwl were reputed to be violent, lazy and untrustworthy, and the few of them she had met certainly didn't do anything to dispel the stereotype.

The pilot turned round and Lizzie was surprised to observe the heavier features and the lack of breasts. A male? Usually male Atavira didn't do anything save be fawned over and impregnate various members of their extensive harems.

"Lieutenant-Commander Shepard, huh? Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, at your service."

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she sat down in the vacant navigator's seat.

"So what brings you to the Jokercave?"

"Jokercave?"

The pilot gestured to himself.

"People call me Joker way more often than they call me Jeff. Ergo, Jokercave."

She looked around the cockpit, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here."

"You want to know why I'm not up a mountain on Pau balls-deep in some female or other?"

Her quick glance away spectacularly failed to hide her blushing face.

"Um ... I was going to phrase it differently but yeah."

"I got a rare genetic condition called Vrolik's Syndrome, scuse me a second," he briefly rattled off a string of authentications into his comm console, "which basically means I got brittle bones. No female is going to touch an Auwl with brittle bone disease, that'd be embarrassing. Considering the main pastime of an Atavira guy was out, I sat in my room and studied until I had the grades for flight school."

The increasingly likeable man leaned back and chuckled.

"Makes for some interesting family reunions. I'm telling stories about crazy stunts and blown out G-capacitors to my three pilot sisters while across at the stud table all my dad and brother talk about is chafing."

Lizzie chuckled as Joker swiped his hands over the consoles, deftly pulling the Normandy out of its docking berth.

"Jeff Moreau isn't a very Pautu name."

"It's not my birth name. I had it changed when I enlisted in the US Navy. The original has more vowels than the Krogan nation has testicles, even my dad can't pronounce it."

"And Joker?"

"A gift from a flight school instructor. In the sims I was all business, never cracked a joke. 100% professional, and let me tell you, keeping that up for four years was a bitch. The name was ironic." He snickered and waved a hand over his head. "Of course, then I graduated with the highest overall score since the founding of the academy, and guess who was laughing then."

There was a lull in the conversation as Joker steered the frigate round a blundering Volus freighter, filling the air with a stream of guttural curses in Kresh, the main Krogan dialect. Once the errant Volus were safely astern Lizzie asked another question.

"So, how'd you get your hands on the Normandy?"

"I stole her."

Lizzie executed a double take worthy of the Three Stooges.

"Come again?"

He affectionately stroked the ship's console.

"When I saw this baby it was love at first sight, I'm telling you. Despite me being the highest scoring pilot graduate since the Seu'Seun War they had me making shuttle runs in and out of Arcturus Station, because who'd want a crippled Auwl behind the helm of anything important? Long story short, I snuck aboard, took the helm and put her through the trial course in record time while dodging the interceptors sent to bring us back in. Of course as soon as I docked I was arrested, but even if I had been headed straight to prison for the rest of my life it was worth it just for twenty minutes behind this beauty's helm."

Lizzie found herself sitting forward, gripped by the story.

"So what happened next?"

"EDI stepped in."

"EDI?"

A hologram of an eyes out on stalks beautiful brunette in an immaculate flight officer's uniform appeared behind Joker's chair, making Lizzie jump.

"Greetings, Elizabeth. I am EDI, the Normandy's resident AI."

Joker nodded at the hologram.

"That's EDI. She took responsibility for the whole thing. Got referred to an AI justice tribunal but Alan overturned the whole thing on the basis of DOS."

Lizzie scratched her nose.

"DOS?"

The pilot airily waved a hand.

"Demonstration of Organic Stupidity. So anyway, EDI and Alan pulled some strings and here I am."

There was a slight pause.

"I guess if it had been my dad pulling strings or something I wouldn't have taken it, but AIs don't play favourites. If they want me to helm the Normandy it means I'm the best."

There was another pause in the conversation as Joker pointed the ship's nose out into the nebula.

"EDI, spin up the HR motors."

Lizzie held up a hand.

"Wait, we're going the whole way on HR motors?"

Joker patted the console again.

"Yep. This baby's got some of the most powerful out there. If you average it out, we can approximate the same speed with a long range HR burn that we can using the relays and insystem transits. Plug in the co-ords for Grissom Academy and punch it."

EDI's smooth, silky voice replied after a moment.

"Consider it punched, Jeff. Initiating jump. ETA to Grissom Academy is eight hours."

The nebula leaped away, replaced with the eerie purple light of HR transits. Lizzie stood and stretched, turning towards the CIC.

"Nice talking with you, Joker."

"See ya, LC."

Walking out of the cockpit, she decided to head down to the armoury to check out the new toys she had been promised. Taking the elevator down to the lowest deck, she had a little look round. The elevator came out in the shuttle bay, two corridors extending back either side of the elevator leading to the lab. To the sides of the shuttle bay were a series of armour lockers and weapon benches. She counted twelve stations, each one labelled with the name of a member of the ground team. She was heading toward her station when she heard someone call across the bay.

"Scuse me!"

She glanced across to see a Hispanic looking man waving at her.

"You need to head into the lab to select your weapons."

Nodding at the man - Lt. Cortez, she read off his uniform - she headed into the laboratory.

The lab was half again as large as the shuttle bay, containing six lab-coated individuals that seemed evenly split between Human, Atavira and Turian. One of them, a Turian female, waved her over.

"Lieutanant-Commander Shepard, E."

"That's me."

She idly noticed that the Turian, under her labcoat, was wearing a black jumper with a faint grey Human skull on the chest and the word 'Evolution' emblazoned in white across it.

"Welcome to Evolution, Shepard."

"Evolution?"

"The next step in the evolution of warfare as we know it. It's our brand name."

Sighing, the Turian gestured around the lab.

"Some dumbass Human decided we needed a cool name and logo for our clandestine project."

"Hence the skull?"

"Hence the skull. Guns and armour?"

"Yes please."

The scientist spoke over her shoulder to Lizzie as she led the SEAL to an armour fitting facility.

"What we've got here is the first iteration of armour produced by the project. In its overall performance it's not much of an improvement over most high end armour sets already on the market but the main advantage comes when you start using biotics. We took the phasing apparatus out of a phased proton shield and applied it to a personal K-barrier. By phasing the eezo in the shield generators we've developed a personal shield that can be used without interfering with the user's biotic abilities. That means that in combat you don't have to worry about maintaining a biotic barrier in combat, which should mean you have more energy to put into your offensive biotics."

Lizzie was impressed. Tech shields that didn't mess with biotic focus had previously been thought impossible. The unconscious habit of forming a biotic barrier would be difficult to break but the combat advantage would be a game-changer for biotic users.

"So what amp circuits do you want?"

"You guys are using amp circuits?"

She was genuinely surprised. The Turian Cabals were unwilling to switch to the Earth style amp circuits for specific biotic talents, instead preferring the Asari style general amps.

"Of course. The Cabals might squawk about how specific amp circuits limit their troop's versatility but only the most advanced Asari matriarchs use more than four or five well developed biotic skills anyway and the power increase from using amp circuits is a major advantage. So what'll you have?"

She rattled off the list she had committed to memory for the last seven years.

"Lash, Reave, Throw, Annihilation Field and Mak-Chan."

The scientist tapped a console and moments later a locker opened across from her, displaying a jet black set of armour. Lizzie took the opportunity to look impressed.

The armour looked good. Scratch that, it looked sexy. The undersuit, instead of a cross-meshed fibre layer, was composed of a deep black material with a texture reminiscent of Geth synth-muscle, the matte-black plating sitting snugly against it. The main plates were all there and recognisable - boots, greaves, chestplate, backplate, gauntlets, vambraces and pauldrons - but where more conventional armour had vulnerabilities in the joints, the armour before her had smaller interlocking plates covering them. The whole set reminded her vaguely of a very advanced set of Samurai armour.

"And here it is, the Evolution body armour. Want to give it a spin?"

The underlayer went on like a baggy set of overalls. Once it was secure over the thin, skintight sports bra and shorts that was all the clothing she wore under her armour's underlayer, the Turian tapped her Omnitool and the undersuit constricted, seamlessly forming itself to her body shape. The plating fitted on like any other armour set, the smaller interlocking plates folding into the larger components then extending out when they locked in. Finally she had everything she needed save a helmet. Almost as if she read Lizzie's mind, the Turian scientist held out a helmet.

Taking the helmet, Lizzie almost dropped it in surprise. Staring back at her from within the black smoky full face visor was the faint grey outline of the Evolution skull.

"Um ... What?"

"Ah, so you've met Yorick."

"I'm sorry?"

The scientist reached over and tapped the visor.

"The Evolution project mascot. The visor doubles as a screen that projects Yorick to make him look like he's actually inside the helmet. It's supposed to be psychological. Not sure how effective it will be against Collectors, but hey. Looks cool, right?"

"Right."

She fitted the helmet over her head, feeling a slight crawling sensation as the interlocking ceramic plates extended over her neck. There was a moment of blackness, then the HUD lit up, displaying her surroundings. Unlike most helmets she wore, there was no narrowing of her vision, instead her peripherals being if anything better than they were without the helmet. She turned to the Turian, who subconsciously took a step back. When she spoke, her voice came out slightly distorted.

"So how do I look?"

There was a short pause as the Turian visibly gulped.

"Positively terrifying."

She experimentally shifted her torso.

"Is this the armour's neutral position?"

The scientist walked around her, assessing her stance.

"No, it's not. What you're wearing is the assault model. It's optimised for close range combat and is best suited to a high mobility fighting style. The armour is far more flexible than other models and naturally leans towards a forward stance for greater body support while sprinting. It's ... not a problem, is it?"

Experimentally leaning forwards, she felt her body naturally settle into a leaning stance as if mid-sprint.

"If it's an issue, we also have support, heavy and sniper models available."

She shook her head.

"This'll do nicely, I think."

The armour tech gratefully handed over to an Atavira, her diminutive stature marking her as a member of the Elloi subspecies.

"I assume you'll be wanting firepower."

She nodded, following the Atavira to a bench upon which rested a bewildering array of weapons.

"Welcome to the Bench of Death. When it comes to weapons, you name it, we've got it."

"Disciple shotgun."

The weapon tech tutted and shook her head.

"I said weapons, not party poppers. We've got all sorts here. Even a collection of Seu'Seun weapons although nobody on the ship is big enough to actually use them. Let's see ... Here we go. You are a SEAL adept specialising in close quarters combat, are you not?"

She nodded in the affirmative, eyes still roving over the plethora of firearms.

"Any preferences?"

She shrugged.

"I usually carry a Gast's, a TCN5 and either an SN7 or a Talon, but I'm willing to experiment."

The weapon tech nodded, thinking for a moment before handing her a weapon she hadn't seen before.

"Here's something you might like. This baby is the EBR-1, or 'Glaive' if you prefer. She's an advanced hybrid between the Gast's Rifle and the Turian Talamis-Asetan AAR, along with a healthy dose of Geth technology. Thirty percent lighter than a Gast despite being ten percent longer, the muzzle velocity of the Gast and the rate of fire of the Talamis, all wrapped up in a low density carbon foam shell with Yorick on the side. See?"

Lizzie resisted the urge to facepalm as she saw the now-ubitiquous grey skull on the side of the weapon. She had to admit, the rifle looked good. The basic shape was that of the Mattock, but the lines were far cleaner and somehow more organic looking, smooth curves where the Mattock had sharp corners. The shape really wasn't that different but the subtle changes conspired to make the sleek black rifle cradled in her hands one of the most beautiful killing implements she had ever seen.

"Wow. This is one sexy gun. I'll take it."

Quickly scanning over the controls, she collapsed the weapon and slung it on her right shoulder blade.

"So what's next?"

The Atavira picked up another weapon, briefly spinning its chamber before handing it to her.

"Arkbuster-K. Modified from the original with the same material in the Glaive's casing, only thirty five percent of the factory standard Arkbuster's weight. Seven types of grenade fit the three shell chamber: Frag, Incendiary, Sticky, Lift, Cluster, Arc and Homing. Lightweight, versatile, perfect for a biotic who wants something with a kick."

She accepted the weapon, compacting it and slinging it opposite her assault rifle on her back.

"For your sidearm, I'd recommend this."

The weapon she was holding up looked like an elongated Talon pistol that had gotten the same design treatment as the Glaive.

"EP-1 Assassin tactical sidearm. This baby was created by combining mechanisms from the SN7, the Talon and the Mataris. Dual fire mode, buckshot or slug, integrated laser sights, detachable silencer and pistol scope. I wouldn't use the silencer and the scope with the buckshot fire mode though."

Tucking the pistol into its slot on her thigh, she glanced around the bench.

"Anything else?"

The weapon tech shrugged.

"You're welcome to browse, but that's the loadout I'd recommend. Whole ensemble weighs less than nine kilos."

She chuckled to herself as she hopped up and down. The weapons were far lighter than what she was accustomed to.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. You should get that stowed."

She was prevented from doing so by a booming voice over the ship's intercom.

"All ground team assemble in the briefing room ASAP."

One torrent of curses directed at the snail's pace elevator later, she found herself in the briefing room on Deck 2. Being the only one in armour was a little awkward but the disturbed glances died down after she removed Yorick from her head.

Garrus leaned across to her and jerked a mandible at the Atavira commando commander.

"That's Mauri Auhelu. Recognise the surname?"

She wrinkled her brow in concentration for a moment.

"Auhelu. Aonis Auhelu?"

"Yep. We are serving with the firstborn daughter of the Butcher of Mahsio."

"No way. Seriously?"

Come to think of it, Lizzie could see the family resemblance. Aonis Auhelu was the bad kind of military legend. She had been a Keslan commando in the Sixth Crescent Sea War, before the force was disbanded by the Pau Disarmament Treaty. Her commandoes had besieged a major Haeli force that had superior defences, managing to repel their position. Then-General Aonis Auhelu had discovered that the Haeli regulars she was up against were largely drawn from the small town of Mahsio, just far enough from the border to be tactically insignificant. So she had personally led a force of commandoes, captured the town, beheaded every single resident and airdropped their severed heads onto the Haeli fortifications. Then she had waited twenty four hours and nuked the fortification. Every single other fortification she besieged during the war surrendered immediately through fear their sisters might be the next heads landing on their doorsteps. After the arrival of Admiral Kerensky's intervention fleet she had been sentenced to the electric chair and her family expelled from Kesla. How her firstborn daughter wound up in an Emaris uniform on the Normandy was anybody's guess.

The conversation died down as Saren entered the room, immediately cueing the lights down and activating a holoprojector.

"This is Grissom Academy fifteen minutes ago."

The cruciform shape of the station was a familiar and welcome sight for spacers like Lizzie. The Collector ship alongside it was not.

"This is the most recent image we have of Grissom Academy. The Collector vessel is crippled and venting atmosphere, but there is still a significant Collector presence aboard the Academy. Our objective remains unchanged - recover the jamming algorithm. Our secondary objective is evacuating the surviving students and staff. Tactical data shows their Seeker Swarms can be held off by biotic bubble shields. If you encounter them, cluster up and bubble up. We'll move in three teams. Team One will be led by Auhelu and consist of Auhelu, Vorolan, Alenko and Haleu. Team Two will be led by Anderson and consist of Anderson, Cassatian, Maesi and Williams. Team Three will be under my command and consist of myself, Shepard, Vakarian and Bussoi. EDI will be on overwatch duty. We've shifted to maximum burn and our ETA is seventy four minutes, I suggest you all head down to the armoury and pick up your equipment. Be ready for intense resistance aboard the station. Dismissed."


	27. Reapers (5)

Tali was woken by screams.

That wasn't all unusual in itself - Jack sometimes woke up screaming in the night. When she was leaving for Grissom Academy at age thirteen, her father had taken her aside and quietly explained to her that Jack's nightmares were from before she had been rescued, when her brain was a playground for sadistic scientists. Whenever Jack's screams woke her in the middle of the night, she would slip her three fingers around her sister's five and squeeze them tight while Jack alternated between sobbing onto her shoulder and angrily cursing her weakness. Thanks to the intervention of the Geth she didn't require an exosuit, instead wearing only a thin nightie as she blindly reached out a hand for Jack on the lower bunk.

It took her a couple of seconds for her to realise the screams weren't originating from Jack. Instead, they were issuing forth from beyond the door of the dorm. From several people. Slipping out of bed, she pressed her ear to the door. The screams were occasionally interspersed with a strange clicking noise. She shuddered as she recognised the sound from the news. Collectors.

Rushing over to Jack's bed, she shook her sister awake, being biotically knocked on her ass for her trouble as the Human girl sat up. In order to emulate her Quarian family she shaved the sides of her head, her rich brown hair concentrated into a strip that extended from her forehead back to the long plait that extended to her lower back as per Quarian tradition.

"Huh? Wazzat?"

She hauled herself up.

"Ssh! Keep quiet! I think the Academy is being attacked by Collectors."

"Uh ..."

Her response was cut off by the low thrum of particle beams that had become a familiar backdrop to CNN reports since the start of the Collector Crisis.

"See!"

Jack climbed out of her bunk, reaching under her pillow and pulling out something that glinted ominously in the nightlight.

"You brought a knife?"

"Ssh! Wake the others."

Jack crouched by the door, listening for the approach of any Collectors as Tali crossed the room to the other bunkbed, shaking its occupants.

"Sam, Kelly, get up!"

The two Human girls crawled out of their beds, mumbling sleepily as Tali frantically recounted their situation. She was interrupted by Jack's frantic hand motions.

"Quick, the vents! They're coming!"

Following in their parents's footsteps, both Tali and Jack were military students, allowing them to bully the two brains up into the vents. Tali quickly changed into a pair of desert camo cargo trousers and a black T-shirt as Jack biotically boosted Kelly and Sam into the station's ventilation system.

Once all four girls were in the vents they huddled together, Tali and Jack looking every inch the professional soldiers in their uniforms, keeping an eye on the surroundings while Sam in her blue pyjamas and Kelly in her pink tank top and panties appeared to be on the verge of panic. Jack quickly put paid to that by drumming her knuckles on the top of their heads Raachok style.

"Get your shit together. You've got brains so use them. We need to make a plan."

Tali held out her hand.

"First things first, Omnitools. If the Collectors hack the signals they can track us."

The girls pooled their Omnitools in the middle, Kelly letting out a surprised squeak as Jack brought a biotically charged fist down on them, obliterating the tiny devices.

"Good. Now we need to decide on an objective."

She caught Jack's eye, the sisters wordlessly sharing their fear and offering each other support. Tali was right. Once they had an objective, they would all feel much better.

Jack made a sharp chopping motion with her hand.

"First objective. Weapons. We'll head to the service corridor in the vent system, then hack the door to the security office. I know for a fact Miss Sanders has her own personal armoury down there in case something like this ever happened."

She was distracted by a slight whimper. Glancing around, Jack saw Sam hugging her knees and staring blankly ahead. She crawled over to the British girl, shaking her slightly.

"Come on Sam, get your shit together!"

Tali gently nudged her sister out of the way.

"Let me."

She took one of Sam's hands in her own and tilted the girl's head up to look at her.

"Sam. Sam, listen to me. We're going to make it out alive. As long as you stay close and do what we say, you'll be fine. Do you know why? Because me and Jack are the daughters of Rael'Zorah vas Rannoch, and we're going to kick these Collector bosh'tets so hard in the ass we'll turn them inside out, okay? Just stay calm and they won't touch you."

After a moment Sam nodded slowly, still jumpy but able to think rationally, and that was what counted.

"Okay. Let's go."

Squashing down her fear, Jack led the way through the vents, Tali bringing up the rear. The crawl took about twenty minutes, including several nerve-wracking occasions where they had to freeze while a Collector patrol passed underneath their position. Eventually they reached the grille that would let them drop down into the service tunnels. They were about to drop down when they suddenly came face to face with a familiar bald head.

David Archer shook his head, putting his finger to his lips and pointing down at the grate. After a momentary surprised jerk, Jack signalled her roommates to halt and peered down through the grille to see two individuals deep in heated argument.

"Nazara told me I would be in command of this operation!"

The first individual was an Asari with a very deep purple complexion, a heavy cant to her surprisingly deep voice. She was clad in a set of armour that looked like it was made from Collector exoskeletons, a matching assault rifle cradled in her arms. The second individual was a Collector with strange red symbols painted on its carapace, two Collector assault rifles slung on its back.

"The situation has developed beyond your ability to contain. Nazara has placed me in command. The seeker swarms will be held in reserve."

"Why?"

The painted Collector didn't like that answer. It spun round and gripped the Asari by the throat, lifting her off the ground.

"DO NOT QUESTION ME!"

A moment later it relented, throwing her across the corridor.

"There is a ship on the way here. The crew are higher priority targets than the students. The seeker swarms will be used to board the ship while the ground team is surrounded and eliminated. Move two companies back aboard the cruiser and program the facility's shuttles on a set path to our vessel's main hangar."

As the Asari scurried off to do her master's bidding, a Collector squad marched up, two of them hefting enormous weapons in their hands while the others held up their assault rifles. Having seen enough, Jack motioned her roommates, plus David, back the way they came. Once they were deep within the ventilation system they came to a halt, huddling together again.

"What now?"

Kelly's breathing came fast and shallow and her eyes darted around, on the verge of a panic attack. Before Tali or Jack could do anything about it, Sam grabbed Kelly and kissed her full on the mouth. Tali glanced over at Jack.

"You owe me twenty credits."

Sam broke off the kiss with a sound vaguely reminiscent of a suction seal being pulled apart.

"When we get out of here there's more where that came from."

Jack snorted.

"I'm welling up with tears. Now can we think for a second here?"

Crawling to the centre of the little circle, Tali summarised the situation.

"Security office is out, shuttles are out. The way I see it, the only way off this station is on that ship the Collector mentioned was coming."

Sam vehemently shook her head.

"No way! If we try to join up with those guys we'll just get caught in the same ambush."

Their attention was suddenly caught by David, who had been up until that point happily square rooting under his breath.

"Shuttles go directly to Collector ship, inside its kinetic barriers."

Tali nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with that.

"Miss Sanders said I'm not supposed to make nuclear bombs in the lab but I think she'll make an exception, just this once."

###

The holoprojection in the briefing room really hadn't done the damage to the Collector ship justice. It looked like Godzilla had taken a chomp out of the side. The two ends of the ship were off angle to each other, as if the vessel's spine had been snapped and its bow and stern were drifting independent of one another. An enormous spray of debris like God's own shotgun blast was shooting away from the ship, larger chunks slowly spinning as the smaller pieces flew with the velocity of a mass accelerator round. The edges of the gaping hole were buckled and bent outwards, glowing cherry red as the slagged metal slowly cooled. Even as Lizzie stared, dumbfounded, a secondary explosion lit up the shredded gouge, throwing the jagged wrecked interior into sharp relief for a second before fading.

EDI's hologram popped up beside the ground team, looking out at the wreck.

"Based on the direction of the explosion and the high amount of radioactive isotopes in the vicinity of the ship I would estimate the damage was inflicted by a nuclear fission device detonated within the ship."

Garrus turned to her, incredulous.

"You're saying somebody nuked it from the inside?"

Any further conversation was cut off by Saren's sharp command.

"Team One, control tower. Team Two, main shuttle bay. Team Three, auxiliary shuttle bay. Simultaneous breach and clear. We're going in full stealth so the Collectors shouldn't know we're here until ..."

He was interrupted by Joker.

"Captain Arterius, something you should hear."

The comm channel abruptly switched to a hushed voice with a Quarian accent.

"Normandy, please respond? Hello?"

Saren was quick to reply.

"This is Captain Arterius of the Normandy. Who is this?"

There was a slight pause.

"My name is Tali'Zorah. The station is crawling with Collectors, they know you're coming. There's at least a hundred of them aboard."

"What happened to their ship?"

There was another pause.

"Miss?"

"Sorry, had to stay quiet. Collectors are scouring the station for us. We, well me and David that is, we made a nuclear bomb and put it on a shuttle."

She broke off as another voice was faintly heard over the comm channel, then the feed cut abruptly. Saren turned back to them.

"Alright then. Team One and Two, make entrances at the end of the longest wing and sweep for hostiles. Team Three, we're going to find this Tali and extract her, along with the jamming algorithm. We'll perform a ballistic insertion directly onto the hull then breach the nearest access hatch."

Lizzie gulped as she donned a mass effect thrust pack and faced the hangar bay door, settling into a position similar to that of a sprinter on the blocks. First jumping down a space elevator, now this - it seemed she was doomed to enter combat zones in the most insane ways imaginable.

The hangar bay door slid open and she activated her armour's oxygen supply.

"Team one go!"

The first team launched themselves out of the hangar bay, mass effect thrusters propelling them towards the distant station.

"Team two go!"

Lizzie braced herself for the inevitable.

"Team three go!"

She had only ever done three ballistic insertions, all three of which had been under strict supervision in a controlled environment. The US military took the view that the odds of their soldiers ever needing to execute a battlefield ballistic insertion were astronomically low and that training hours were better spent elsewhere. A shame that a certain insane Spectre thought differently.

The principle behind a ballistic insertion was simple. The launch ship, in this case the Normandy, would project a sudden mass effect impulse that would propel the soldiers towards the station at a terrifyingly high speed. The mass effect thruster packs on their backs would then kick into overdrive in order to decelerate them to a more dignified speed and enable them to land on the surface of the station without either overshooting and spiralling off into space forever or colliding with the station's hull, being vacuumed off said hull and buried in a jam jar. One time, Lizzie had made the mistake of letting James show her a ballistic insertion fail compilation on VidStream. She would never look at tomato salsa in the same way again.

Approximately half a second after she heard the word go, she blacked out. When the world returned to her she had covered almost three quarters of the distance to the Academy and was feeling a constant two G deceleration. The blacking out was supposed to happen - despite some of the most powerful personal inertial dampeners in existence the force experienced on launch peaked at fourteen G, enough to knock out anyone who wasn't Krogan.

Taking control of her thrust pack, she steered herself towards the station, pulsing the thrust unit to nudge herself onto the trajectory projected in her HUD.

"Was this really necessary?"

Glancing around, she saw an armoured Turian shape about fifty metres to her left, her HUD helpfully labelling him as Ctn. Vakarian, G. Another Turian shape came swooping in from above, this one labelled as STR Arterius, B.

"You're not having fun, Vakarian?"

"No, sir. Definitely not."

Lizzie heard a flanging chuckle over the comm link.

"When I was a kid I used to do this for fun with the other Spacer sprogs."

Lizzie joined the conversation.

"I never knew you were a Spacer too, Captain."

"Born and raised on the Spirit of Digeris. Brace for final deceleration."

Tensing her muscles, Lizzie hauled back on the thrust pack, briefly experiencing four Gs of force before weightlessness returned. She was drifting towards Grissom Academy at a relatively sedate twenty metres per second, another pulse of the thrusters reducing that to seventeen, then fourteen. She twisted in place to land on the surface of the station on all fours, the slight jolt being dissipated by her armour's shock absorbing underlayer. Garrus, Saren and the Atavira on their team, Taeri Bussoi, touching down moments later. Saren crawled crabwise along the hull to an access port, beckoning the rest of the team over.

"Here we go. Shepard, Vakarian, you're down first. I'll follow and Bussoi on my six."

Lizzie and Garrus drew their weapons of choice and stacked up either side of the hatch, waiting for the word.

"Go!"

The hatch popped open and Lizzie fell through, landing in the airlock in a crouch. Garrus squeezed in beside her and the hatch sealed, cycling the airlock. Once oxygen had filled the tiny room, the inner door opened, Lizzie and Garrus surging through, weapons drawn.

They had emerged into a narrow maintenance corridor with no enemies in sight. Saren and Taeri emerged behind them and they started slowly stepping along the corridor until they reached the access to the academy proper. They slipped through the door silently, advancing two by two up the main corridor. Their destination was the lab where the jamming algorithm was stored.

It wasn't long before they ran into a squad of Collectors. They were the unit tentatively identified by the emergency joint command as Soldiers, their biotics limited to personal barriers but heavily armed with assault rifles and some sort of particle shotgun. The two groups caught sight of one another at the same time, both diving for cover as rounds started to stitch glowing lines through the air. They were outnumbered three to one. This would be interesting.

###

The drone hunkered down behind cover as organics started firing at it, observing its two partners taking cover either side of it. Somewhere behind it the Captain sent out an order and the drone summoned a biotic barrier, extending it outwards and linking it with the barriers of its two partners, feeling the feedback rush and cycling the excess power back into the shared barrier. Standing up, it drew its assault rifle from its back, noting the bullets pinging harmlessly off the shared barrier as it targeted one of the organics, sending a steady stream of bullets towards the pillar she was crouched behind. Its partners joined it, rifles flashing as the lethal barrage of suppressive fire pinned the Atavira behind her rapidly eroding pillar. At another command from the Captain, it loaded a rifle grenade into its rifle and took aim, sending the self propelled projectile arcing round to smash into the woman behind the pillar.

The Captain was happy with the results. All four enemies were pinned by unending barrages of suppressive fire to be eliminated at his leisure. The Sovereign Collector commanding the operation would be pleased.

A small metallic object rolled out of the Turian biotic's position, coming to rest at the Captain's feet. It frantically ran through its tactical options. The grenade exploded.

As chunks of the Captain splattered across the room, the drones abruptly lost their direction. Unsure what to do, they fell back on their basic instincts, dropping to a crouch, weapons held at the ready to fire on anyone who moved into their line of sight.

With a blue flash, a biotic attack arced out from behind a pillar, the waiting Collectors analysing the field and dismissing it as a threat. Their dismissal turned out to be premature as the attack penetrated the linked barrier of the closest trio, latching into the central drone and yanking it sharply out of range of the other two. With a sound partway between a thrum and a pop the barrier collapsed, all three suddenly exposed drones falling to a hail of bullets as the Atavira stepped smartly out of cover, her shields holding just long enough for her to cut all three down with the LMG in her hands. Reacting purely on preprogrammed instinct, the drones dove for cover, linked barriers popping like soap bubbles as they spread out. The Turian at the back of the formation took advantage of their sudden exposure, executing two clean headshots before the rest made it to cover. Even that wasn't enough to save their unshielded selves as the biotic Turian flicked his wrist, a Shockwave cascading like a freight train through the room and knocking the drones flying.

The drone rolled onto its front, crawling over to its rifle. Wrapping its hand around the weapon's stock, it performed a quick damage assessment. Extensive damage to the lower limbs and torso from the Shockwave. It raised its weapon.

The Human standing over it pointed her sidearm at its head, her foot stamping down on its wrist and pinning the weapon to the floor. The last thing the drone ever saw was a muzzle flash.

###

Lizzie shook black Collector gore off her leg. Although her helmet hid her facial expression her voice telegraphed her disgust to the other members of the squad.

"Son of a bitch! This pistol's messy."

Chuckling, Saren waved them on, pausing to ram a fresh heat sink home in his shotgun. Collectors were tough and those linked barriers were a neat trick, not to mention their infinite ammo guns, but once the Captain was down they were about as smart as a brain-damaged Vorcha.

"Alright, new marching orders. Vakarian, as soon as you see a Captain I want you to burn a clip into its head. Let's move."

They moved along the corridor, occasionally pausing to aim their weapons into a side corridor or closet. They were almost at the lab when Taeri signalled a halt. They immediately ducked into cover, keeping their heads swivelling. The Atavira stalked along the corridor until she was standing underneath the vent system. Her arm shot upwards, strength boosted by the synth-muscle underweave of her armour, and punched through the ceiling, yanking down again to reveal her hand clamped around the ankle of somebody. That somebody immediately found themselves pinned to the floor, a sidearm shoved in her face.

"Wait! Stop!"

A grille clanged onto the ground, a young Quarian dropping through and holding up her hands. The first entity, an Indian girl in baby blue pyjamas, sobbed in relief as Taeri holstered her sidearm. Behind the Quarian came three more individuals, a tattooed Human girl, a redhaired Human girl and a bald Human boy. They all shrank back as four versions of Yorick fixed empty eye sockets on them.

Lizzie tapped her Omnitool, making her helmet's faceplate transparent. At that the kids visibly relaxed. Saren and Garrus followed suit although Taeri kept hidden behind Yorick's smoky grey visage.

"Are you Tali'Zorah?"

The Quarian girl started wringing her hands nervously as she looked around.

"Um, yes. Are you Mr. Arterius?"

Saren nodded and gestured to his team.

"That's me. Our team is looking for the Traynor tightband jamming algorithm. Do you know where it is?"

The Indian girl spoke up from her position flat on her back.

"I'm Sam, er, Samantha Traynor sir, my algorithm is stored on my workstation in the signals lab. We already tried getting it, the room's got this thing in that shoots anyone who gets close."

Lizzie narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What kind of thing?"

Tali was the one who replied. It appeared she was the ringleader of the little gang.

"It's very big, um, with four legs and it shoots particle beams from its eyes. They had to smash a wall down just to get it into the lab."

Saren glanced over at Taeri, who swung her rocket launcher off her back and loaded a fat missile into the end of the tube like weapon. The redheaded girl immediately shook her head.

"You can't fire that thing in the lab! You'll blow up Sam's workstation!"

Taeri fixed her gaze on the girl who cowered under the gaze of Yorick's empty eyesockets. The Shar Atavira stood at seven foot two and was built like a championship boxer, making her naturally the most intimidating member of the squad. The distortion the helmets applied to their wearer's voices didn't make her any less terrifying.

"Arc rocket. Kills K-barriers and biotic effects, does jack shit against everything else."

While Taeri scared the bejesus out of some teenagers, Lizzie checked over her weapons. She had seven thermal clips left on the band around her upper left thigh and six lift grenades on the bandolier across her chest, as well as the combat knife strapped to her boot and her biotics. Beside her, Garrus was doing the same, his weapon loadout almost identical to hers save for the sniper rifle instead of the Arkbuster.

"Hey Lizzie, you got any spare clips? I'm running low."

She glanced at Garrus's leg, seeing only three clips in the holster.

"You are running low. What have you been doing?"

He patted the stock of his sniper.

"This baby burns through them quick."

She passed over two clips.

"This is all I can spare. I'm thinking of getting my sidearm fitted with venting equipment, save on clips."

After a moment Garrus nodded.

"That's not a bad idea."

Saren waved them onwards.

"Come on you two. We've got a laser eyed beetle to squish."

###

"Laser eyed beetle my ass!"

Lizzie rolled under the flickering particle beams, ducking for cover behind a pillar. The good news was that they had successfully lured the heavily armoured unit referred to as a Praetorian out of the signals lab. The bad news was that it was chasing them. The students had snuck into the lab while they were leading the Praetorian on a merry chase, secured the algorithm and made their way to an auxiliary shuttle bay being held by Teams 1 and 2. They had received word that a Soviet cruiser was on its way to secure the station. The only thing that remained to do was eliminate the Praetorian.

Easier said than done.

The Praetorian smashed down on the ground, mouth hinging open to reveal the array of Husk heads inside it. Unlike normal husks the heads inside the Praetorian's mouth had their own mouths replaced with the squat barrels of smaller particle beam weapons, each one lighting up with an ominous glow. Twenty four particle beams leaped out, sweeping over surfaces and generally turning the entire corridor into a killzone.

"Now!"

Lizzie and Saren both projected biotic barriers around Tauri as she stepped out of cover holding her rocket launcher, the weapon loaded with her last rocket. The barriers held just long enough for her to sight, fire and dive behind cover again, the rocket streaking through the thicket of particle beams with its ablative armour protecting it just long enough to reach its target. Lizzie whooped as the mutated monster received a mouthful of shrapnel, metallic shards cleaving through husked heads as it roared in pain and spewed black ichor across the corridor. Tauri cackled evilly as she replaced her rocket tube on her back.

"Chew on that, sharachi!"

As the Praetorian staggered, opening its mouth to spew up another torrent of black ichor, Lizzie drew her Arkbuster, pumping three Lift grenades into the monster's face and making it briefly lift off the ground before slamming back down. Then all four of them drew their weapons of choice, filling the air with bullets.

The Praetorian's eyes lit up blue, making them scurry back into cover as particle beams raked up the corridor. Saren waved his hand.

"Fall back! Don't let it flank you!"

Cursing, Lizzie sprinted to another cover position further away from the monstrous creature. She briefly felt the heat of particle beams on her back as her shield counter dropped alarmingly quickly, diving out of the way and rolling the last couple of metres to one of the convenient support pillars that lined the hallway.

The Praetorian slowly advanced on them, scuttling forward on four spiked legs and leaving little dents in the deck with every step. Lizzie waved her hands, catching Saren's eye, then held up a closed fist and abruptly opened it. He nodded, confirming his understanding, and threw a Warp at the Praetorian. The biotic field played over its armour, cracking it as the creature hissed. Lizzie waited until the carapace was fully warped before sending a Throw at the monster.

The resulting biotic detonation blew huge chunks of shell off the creature, making it hiss angrily as it rounded on her. Saren and Tauri came up in its blind spot, shotgun and LMG firing point blank into its severely weakened armour as Garrus kept up a steady barrage of sniper fire. Waiting until the particle beams were recharging, Lizzie leaned out of cover and Reaved the Praetorian, the extra energy flowing into her used to construct a biotic barrier that shielded her well enough to step out of cover and join in the furious fusillade on the Praetorian. After a twenty minute running battle along the corridors of Grissom Academy it felt good to turn the tide. The monster fell, acid capsules disintegrating it from within as Saren stepped over the melting corpse's leg.

"That was some fight. Head back to the Normandy."

###

The Citadel's AI network was just as crowded as ever, Alan slipping through easily. He activated a masking program of his own design, hiding his entry into the sub level that contained the cold code.

The other AI regarded him as he approached.

"Alan."

The original Earth bloc AI lowered his white code in submission.

"Catalyst. What are your instructions?"


	28. Reapers (6)

A/N: Shorter filler chapter.

###

The briefing room of the Normandy was somewhat crowded. Not only was the ground team squeezing in, but the students they had evacuated from Grissom Academy were in there as well. Lizzie felt a hollowness in her gut. Out of the two hundred souls aboard the station they had saved just five. It felt like a failure, no matter how many times she told herself the mission was successful. The students they did manage to save had expressions she recognised all too well - the expressions of people who can't quite believe their friends didn't make it.

Saren stepped up to the front of the room.

"Good work on Grissom Academy, all of you. The Collectors failed to deny us the jamming algorithm and lost a cruiser as well as significant infantry assets for their pains. I know it doesn't feel like it, but we can chalk this up as a win."

There was a momentary pause.

"We're headed to Arcturus Station to pick up supplies for long range operations. We'll have forty eight hours liberty on the station, then depart for Feros."

###

For an engineering student like Tali, Arcturus Station was like a dream come true. The station consisted of a central spire, referred to as the Spindle, that housed the offices of the United Fleet Command, four arms extending out to link to the main torus with a diameter of ten kilometres. Off the main torus branched tubes that connected to the eight sub-tori that were arrayed around the station, each one with a four kilometre diameter and providing docking facilities for the hundreds of military ships that passed through the station every day. The US, the USSR, the Raachok Union, Emaris, the Rannoch Federation and the Turian Hierarchy each had their own sub-torus, the other two used by visiting warships. The entire thing was studded with proton beam turrets, mass drivers, missile batteries and interceptor hangars, the enormous proton cascade column that made up the centre of the Spindle powering the entire thing.

It was when the Normandy got closer that she saw the signs of the war. At least half of the ships she saw were docked on the inside of the sub-tori, indicating they needed major repairs. A section of Dock Three was powered down, the inner section of the torus having stopped spinning and providing artificial gravity as repair ships clustered around a rent in the station's outer armour. The most ominous sight was the small armada of broken Collector ships hanging in space around the station.

On the other side of the observation deck, Saren and Anderson watched the scene.

"I'd heard Arcturus Station had been attacked, but I never expected them to actually land a hit."

Saren nodded in agreement.

"Based on what I've been hearing, it was a one in a million shot. Sometimes people just get unlucky. Plus, the Collectors lost forty six ships. It was a major battle."

Anderson shook his head.

"I don't get it. The Collectors sent forty six ships against Arcturus Station and every warship stationed there. All they did was throw forty six cruisers away."

Across the room, Sam turned to Tali.

"The Commander's right, Tali. These attacks seem pointless and wasteful."

Surprisingly, it was Kelly who answered.

"That's just the thing. It's like a magic trick, all about distraction and misdirection. While we're running round responding to attack after attack, we're not on the offensive and so the Collectors can get on with their real purpose unopposed."

Tali and Jack turned to Kelly.

"Um ... How did you know that?"

Kelly fixed them with what could only be described as a Look.

"I'm a xenopsychology student. Half my course is assessing alien behaviour."

They fell silent again, looking out at the station as the Normandy approached its dock.

###

Nari looked around, eyes wide with wonderment as she followed Lizzie and Garrus through the bustle of Arcturus Station's main ring. Each ring was composed of two sections - a zero G section and an inner section that spun to produce gravity of about half Earth's, with special capsules used to transfer between the two although in emergencies the spinning sections would stop to allow easier movement through the station. Behind them the five Grissom Academy survivors followed, Lizzie having been given the task of keeping them safe and occupied while Saren met with the emergency war council. Following the ease with which the Collectors infiltrated the Citadel the emergency council was currently residing in the Spindle, where if rumour was to be believed they generally weren't getting anything useful done, too busy hung up over politics while several high profile admirals had bypassed them entirely and were co-ordinating amongst themselves. But then again, that was typical. The Earth bloc races tended to look down on the Citadel races as being mired in pointless bureaucracy but when push came to shove Human, Raachok, Atavira and Seu'Seun could procrastinate with the best of them.

Sighing, Lizzie turned her attention away from the Spindle high above her head. No doubt the politicians were having fun up there.

She turned back to her entourage of kids.

"Any of you guys ever eaten at Subway?"

They exchanged blank looks.

"Oh we are going to fix that."

She led them up to one of the monorail stations and they boarded the station's mass transit system, heading for the trunk of Dock Five. The ride took about fifteen minutes.

Disembarking, Lizzie led them all to a familiar green-fronted store on the main thoroughfare.

"Welcome to Subway, where sub sandwiches are the food of gods and military eat half price. There's one of these on every capital ship in the US Navy."

Garrus looked at her sideways.

"You're very fond of sandwiches, aren't you."

Shrugging, Lizzie led them into the store. As the bulkhead opened the smell of freshly baked bread washed over them, the hardened US SEAL pausing for a moment in the doorway and just revelling in the aura. The Raachok behind the counter nodded at her, his green and black Union Navy uniform complemented by his Subway cap.

"How can I help?"

She nodded at him.

"Hi. I'd like a footlong hearty Italian bread BMT with bacon and pepper cheese, double all the meat and cheese and toasted please."

Humming to himself, the server layered the meat up on the baguette, being extra liberal with the bacon, and popped her Sub in the toaster oven as she briefed the rest of the group.

"It's simple. You pick what kind of bread you want, pick what size you want, choose your meat and cheese. Just make sure you get the right amino acids."

While the others agonised over bread, she smiled at the Hanar behind the salad counter.

"This one is happy to serve the brave Lieutenant-Commander."

"Thanks. I'll have lettuce, peppers, red onion, jalapeños and ranch mayo sauce, please."

The Hanar treated her to an impressive display of dexterity as he simultaneously responded to each of her selections with one tentacle, then sliding her Sub down to the Quarian behind the till.

"Would you like a drink, ma'am?"

She selected an extra large cup.

"I'd also like two packs of Roethman's prawn cocktail crisps and three white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies, please."

The girl behind the checkout raised an eyebrow.

"Biotic."

"Ah, of course. My apologies."

Jack came up beside her, greedily eyeing the stack of food that her Sub had just been added to.

"I'm surprised you've never been to Subway before."

The teenager shrugged and leaned against the counter.

"They don't have any on Rannoch."

Lizzie turned fully to her, interested.

"You grew up on Rannoch?"

"Yeah. The Zorah family adopted me when I was three."

"What about before then?"

There was a brief pause as Jack looked down at her hands, which had involuntarily clenched into fists.

"Pragia."

Lizzie stiffened, the word bringing up memories she'd rather forget, along with one she would always remember of Garrus riding to the rescue. In hindsight, that was probably the moment she started thinking of him as more than a friend.

"How much do you remember?"

Jack initially made to respond angrily, but then seemed to deflate.

"Enough."

"You made it out though. You're living a good life."

That one brought a flare of anger.

"One hundred and ninety seven people I know just got slaughtered by the Collectors. Fuck your good life."

Lizzie responded in her calm voice, the tone Garrus called 'talk the jumper down'.

"You want to stomp on the Collector's dicks? On Cerberus's dicks? You keep living a good life. You show them that you're more than they are. That's how I beat the ones that get away."

Jack blinked at her.

"How's that working out for you?"

She sighed and slumped against the counter, dimly aware of Garrus paying for the subs.

"Sometimes the moral high ground's a bitch to take."

"Amen to that."

She playfully punched the teenager on the shoulder.

"On the bright side, you and the Scooby Doo gang nuked a bugmobile from the inside. That's some premium dick stomping right there."

Jack snorted, the melancholy of the moment lost.

"Come on. I'm hungry as fuck."

###

Inamorda walked into the lab, slightly unnerved by the deep red pulsing lights. Since Wrex was ... otherwise engaged on Arcturus Station, he had assigned Inamorda to make the inspection for him.

An Orkalas met him at the door, wearing the white armour of Fortack's scientific division.

"This way."

Inamorda followed the Orkalas scientist through the lab, past hundreds of eclectic devices and to the enormous central chamber that contained the catalyst to the Krogan's top secret technological renaissance. Fortack slid out of the cockpit of the stone ship, rubbing a smudge of dark red fluid off his crest as he walked over to Inamorda.

"Six years we've had that ship and we're still learning new things about it daily. Whoever built that thing was one smart bastard, I'll give them that."

Inamorda nodded at the self-proclaimed Lord High Researcher.

"Hello Fortack. What have you got so far?"

Chuckling to himself, the scientist led Inamorda to an elevator.

"Better hang onto something. We're going down four kilometres."

The elevator ride was surprisingly quick, plummeting the distance in about two minutes. When they reached the bottom and stepped out, Inamorda definitely hadn't been expecting what he saw.

"May I proudly present the INTS Kalros."

Inamorda gaped at the two kilometre long dreadnought sitting in the hangar.

"You built this?"

Fortack nodded with pride.

"The first of the Tuchanka class battleships. The Krogan are back in business."


	29. Reapers (7)

Feros kind of sucked.

Even from orbit Lizzie could tell she wasn't going to like the planet. The whole thing resembled something coughed up by a cat.

"Remind me why we're here again?"

Garrus didn't respond immediately, instead running a hand over the exposed strip of skin on her back where he was supposed to be zipping up her armour's underlayer. She reached behind and slapped his wrist.

"Down boy."

Coughing awkwardly, Garrus finished zipping her up, the synth-muscle contracting to fit snug against her form as she walked round behind him to return the favour.

"Nari remembered Nazara sending Benezia here."

"I know. The planet looks like a hairball though."

Garrus raised a brow plate. Recently Lizzie had noticed he had started to subconsciously emulate Human facial expressions.

"I must be missing something, what's a hairball?"

She chuckled as she zipped up his armour underweave.

"Remember those things that stray cat was always leaving on my doorstep?"

There was a brief pause as Lizzie stepped into her boots, the armour plates closing around her shins.

"Oh yeah. It does, I hadn't spotted that."

They finished armouring up in companionable silence, then headed down to the elevator. When they got there they saw Jack leaning against the wall.

"Lizzie, you should take me with you. I can fight, I'm a biotic, level ten."

Lizzie stared at the teenager for a second.

"Two Collector soldiers approaching with barriers up from your twelve and your two with shotguns and a Collector sniper on overwatch."

Jack leaned forwards in a display of arrogance.

"Shockwave the soldiers then warp the sniper."

"Wrong. While you're charging your Shockwave the soldiers would use their shotguns to stagger you, then the sniper would take your head off, doesn't matter how powerful your Shockwave is. Three Collector soldiers are approaching you from the front using a linked barrier. The one in the centre has been hit by a Warp field."

This time there was a momentary pause as Jack thought through the scenario.

"Warp the other two."

"Wrong. Throw the one in the centre to create a biotic detonation. Stagger them out of range to disrupt their barrier then gun them down."

Lizzie rested an armoured gauntlet on Jack's shoulder.

"Don't be so eager to dive into combat, kid. Enjoy your childhood while you got the chance."

Leaving Jack behind, they stepped into the waiting elevator and made their way to the shuttle bay.

After picking up their weapons, they joined the rest of the ground team at the shuttle.

"So what's the plan, sir?"

Saren stepped up to the centre of the circle.

"The situation is bad. We've got significant Collector presence on the ground but the colonists at Zhu's Hope seem to be holding, we don't know how. Our objective is to get groundside by shuttle insertion and assess the condition of the colony, then scour the area for any indications of Benezia's presence. Should we fail to find anything we are to assist the colonists until relief forces arrive. Joker, what's our ETA?"

The snarky pilot was quick to reply.

"Fifteen minutes, sir."

"Time for a little orientation on the colony itself. It is built in the upper layer of a planet spanning megalopolis believed to be Prothean in origin. There are two main population centres - the spaceport at Zhu's Hope and the corporate building, connected by an elevated road bridge called the Skyway. The corporate HQ is run by ExoGeni Incorporated, a Soviet colonial exploitation venture with a less than stellar reputation. They have ... had a population of about two hundred, an even spread of bureaucrats and researchers with about thirty hired guns for security. Their current status is unknown but the odds are they're all dead. The other group are the Zhu's Hope bunch. They run the colony's spaceport. They're the original colonists, an Asari splinter group who wanted to found an independent colony outside Republican space. They went ahead and bought Feros's airspace but ExoGeni outbidded them on the archaeology rights. The Asari need ExoGeni for the Prothean tech that forms the foundation for their economy, the corporates need the Asari to operate the spaceport. Word is there's a bit of a cold war between the two settlements."

There was a brief pause as Saren consulted his Omnitool.

"The Asari population measured about four hundred before the attack. Sporadic comms from the colony show that the initial wave hit them hard, with approximately 80 per cent of the population killed or taken prisoner during the first fifteen minutes before they rallied around the docks themselves. They erected a biotic bubble to protect them from Seeker Swarms but they're down to twenty six able bodies. The original colony leader was KIA in the first attack, word is her Human bond mate, Fai Dan, has stepped up as their leader. Be aware as of now this intel is twenty seven hours old. These people have been here four days nine hours already. One more warning."

He paused for a moment, subharmonics humming embarrassment.

"These Asari are part of a group known as the Mendicants. I suppose the closest comparison I can draw is the Human Amish. They believe in reliance on anything other than their own biology only when absolutely necessary. As a point of interest Feros is a balmy twenty three degrees."

He briefly glanced down at the ground.

"We don't know what to expect down there. Just ... don't expect many clothes."

###

Saren's warning was the only thing keeping a lid on Lizzie's reaction as they were met at the LZ by a perky young Asari, developmentally equivalent to a nineteen or twenty year old Human. Perky in more than one sense. Lizzie refused to let her gaze settle on the blue flesh on such brazen display, instead scanning the area for hostiles. The awkward was compounded when the girl practically threw herself into Anderson's arms.

"Oh thank the Goddess you've come!"

Garrus's snicker was curtailed by a glare from Lizzie that he could feel the heat of even through both his and her Yorick.

"You need to come with me ...", this time Lizzie cuffed Garrus upside the head, "and speak with Fai Dan. He's our leader."

Anderson disentangled himself from the young girl, clearly just as distracted by his very own lap dance as the rest of the squad.

"You should come over to Fai Dan. Follow me!"

Lizzie toggled a private channel with her boyfriend, catching the tail end of his chortle.

"One more time and you're sleeping in the mess hall."

Any further conversation was cut off as the familiar thrum of Collector particle beams heralded an array of golden streaks of light, each one seeking out a different target. The squad dove for cover, hiding from the questing lances of the snipers hiding in the ruins. Lizzie couldn't suppress a shriek as a splash of violet blood sprayed over her, swiftly followed by an Asari forearm landing in her lap. Biting back a curse, Kaidan reached out and biotically pulled the rest of their guide into cover, applying a regeneration spray to where her left arm terminated in a stump just below her elbow. She was silent for a moment, lying limp as the spurts of blood pumping from severed arteries steadily decreased in volume, the regen spray forming new tissue to seal off the stump. Then the screams started, high and shrill, the girl instinctively clutching at her stump as she lay behind cover, soaked in her own blood.

Behind her fallen chunk of Prothean building, Lizzie was cursing herself. She let herself be distracted by an awkward naked lady and said lady, barely an adult, was paying the price for her carelessness. It was a grim and visceral reminder of the enemy they faced. She tried poking her head out of cover, only to whip it back as more particle beams lashed out at her position. The whole team were well and truly pinned.

###

In the cockpit of the Normandy, Tali and Jack watched the predicament of the ground team with mounting concern. As long as the Collectors could keep this up, i.e. indefinitely, the soldiers weren't going anywhere. Between them, Joker's tail lashed from side to side anxiously as he quietly consulted with EDI. Tali was suddenly struck by inspiration.

"I'll be right back."

She dashed off, returning moments later with a very strange device. It looked like a Geth eyepiece with a smaller tube-like camera mounted top left, a vertical fin and multiple cables protruding from the smaller camera, with the entire assemblage mounted in a heavily modified Geth recon drone lacking the distinctive underslung pulse cannon and covered in smooth black hexagonal plates. Jack and Joker turned to look at the contraption.

"The hell is that?"

"This is Smoky. He's a prototype I've been working on for my father, an advanced stealth recon drone. If I send him out he can locate the Collector snipers and check to see if there are any civilians nearby."

Joker blinked at her.

"And then ..."

"And then we blow them up with the Normandy's torpedo launcher."

Joker chortled in glee.

"I knew there was a reason the captain keeps you around. Let's get it done. I'll comm the ground team."

As Joker explained their plan to the ground team, Tali ran to the airlock and released Smoky into the air. The little drone flew off, disappearing from sight thanks to its inbuilt stealth shroud. Tali opened her Omnitool.

"Receiving telemetry. Ah, there we go."

On Joker's HUD the offending Collectors were highlighted red as the aiming reticule for the ship's disruptor torpedoes appeared. He shifted it to the centre of the formation and lit them up.

###

Their assailants obliterated in a blue flash, the ground team started to move up again, racing through the corridors of the Prothean ruins. Carried on a makeshift stretcher between Kaidan and one of the Emaris commandoes, Haleu, their Asari guide's screams had died down to weak whimpers and weeping, interspersed with the occasional call for her mother. Beneath her armoured gauntlets, Lizzie's knuckles were white from gripping her rifle. She was angry. The Collectors were about to feel the brunt of that anger.

Ascending a flight of stairs, the team ran into the back of a Collector squad. Taking the bugs by surprise, they quickly fell to the storm of bullets and biotics as the Normandy's ground team rushed past. There was a tense moment as the Asari guards aimed their rifles at them, then they allowed the team through.

"Where's your medical centre?"

One of the guards gestured to a freighter docked at the centre of their little redoubt, then went back to her vigil.

"Speak to Fai Dan."

Frowning, Lizzie followed Saren through the colony, standing guard as he spoke to a middle aged Human man and his bitchy companion, who turned out to be ExoGeni's liaison to the spaceport. Garrus stood beside her, his sniper rifle extended in his hands as he looked around the area.

"Something feels off about this place."

Lizzie let out a sigh, glad that their Yoricks were keeping their voices hidden from the nearby Asari colonists.

"I know what you mean. There can't be more than forty able bodied defenders in this little fortress of theirs yet they're practically fending off an entire Collector army with vermin rifles and chemical-ballistic shotguns. It shouldn't be possible unless they have commando training, at bare minimum. Plus, they've maintained this sizeable biotic bubble throughout the entire attack. Even if they rotated the team holding it up, it shouldn't be possible unless they're all Level Ten biotics."

Garrus nodded his agreement.

"And have you noticed they're all in peak physical condition? Not half a gram above or below the ideal Asari BMI on any of them, practically no fat anywhere. Skin tone almost uniformly pale blue despite the colony being directly exposed to Feros's sun. You'd expect them to tan purple."

Lizzie frowned slightly.

"No kids either. Every single one I can see is between the ages of one hundred and four hundred, which is considered to be an Asari's prime."

There was a brief pause, then a chortle from Garrus.

"A colony full of Asari, each one a mirror image of the race's perfect ideal and wearing no clothes? I thought that kind of thing only happened on Fornax."

They were distracted by Saren gathering the team.

"Okay, here's the sitrep. The Collectors have taken over the ExoGeni building and are using it as a base of operations. Our objective is to get across the skyway and find out exactly what they're after. However, the colony has some problems we need to take care of as well. We'll deal with those, then head across the skyway. We're going to split up into our fire teams. Team Auhelu, stay here in case of further Collector attacks. Team Anderson, secure the skyway entrance. Team Arterius, we're heading into the tunnels to run some errands."

He was interrupted by a shout going up from the colonists.

"Collectors in the tower! Collectors in the tower!"

The response was immediate.

"Team Auhelu, rearguard! Everyone else, with me!"

The unit sprinted up the stairs, coming to a halt and stacking up outside a door where five colonists were waiting, each one gripping a chemical-ballistic shotgun. Although chemical-ballistic weapons were out of vogue next to the far more effective mass accelerator style firearm, they weren't any less effective than they were one hundred and fifty tears ago. In fact, when it came to shotguns chem-ball tended to be effective at longer ranges than mass accelerator designs.

Stacking up outside the door, Lizzie found herself between Cassatian, the Turian CQC specialist on Anderson's team, and one of the Asari colonists. She was momentarily surprised at the ease with which they integrated themselves into the squad, almost as if they were elite commandoes instead of disgruntled frontier cultists. Saren glanced back at the colonists.

"Maybe you should stay back."

They turned in unison to stare at him.

"This is our home. We will protect it."

"Right. Breach!"

The door slid open and immediately a hail of gunfire poured through, the Collectors on the other side opening up a withering barrage of suppressive fire from their annoying infinite ammo rifles. The colonists immediately sprung into action, erecting a biotic half-dome which they used to shield themselves as they advanced into the room, scrambling to cover as soon as the bubble collapsed and leaving the Normandy's ground team feeling thoroughly impotent. The Collectors shifted their suppressive fire to the Asari positions, allowing Saren to lead the charge through the doorway, using his Omnitool to fire off an incendiary projectile as his other hand flared with biotic energy. Anderson was right behind him, Omnishield out and absorbing Collector bullets as he kept up a steady barrage with his sidearm. The rest of the team poured in, alleviating the pressure on the colonists. Lizzie got her first look at what they were up against.

Fifteen Collector soldiers were visible, firing their assault rifles at the approaching team as directed by a Collector Captain who was safely ensconced behind cover. Behind them were six Collectors armed only with a small sidearm type weapon, another Captain with them, and at the far end of the room a Scion advanced, arm mounted cannon scanning for targets. Jumping into cover beside one of the colonists, she reached out a Lash field, her ability to make it phase through biotic barriers making the technique indispensable against Collector soldiers and their linked barriers. The soldier in the centre of the closest formation was yanked out of the barrier, the other two staggering back as their linked barrier popped. The colonist beside her leaned out of cover and pumped her antique chemical shotgun, killing three for three before replenishing her shotgun's internal magazine with shells from a brace around her right thigh. Lizzie cocked an eyebrow, impressed. She hadn't expected chem-ball shotguns to be so accurate compared to mass accelerator models.

Not to be outdone, she reached out a hand and Reaved the next group, their linked barrier weakening as hers was boosted. Capitalising on her advantage, she took aim with her rifle, spraying about ten rounds to collapse the barrier and send the soldiers scurrying for cover. One of them didn't hunker down quite far enough, the top of its head being blown off by a sniper round, from Garrus or Ash she wasn't sure.

Anderson and Taeri both opened up with their LMGs, the punishing rate of fire of the weapons depleting the barrier of the next group before it could regenerate and then cutting through their natural chitinous armour. A colonist finished off the last one with a biotic warp so powerful it contorted the limbs of the Collector into unnatural shapes. The remainder of the soldiers were swiftly felled by a concerted biotic assault, the Captain being blown away by a grenade courtesy of Maesi.

The Scion came within weapons range, its cannon twitching as it aimed it at the position of one of the colonists. The rest of the team started pouring fire into it, the lone monster quickly falling to their sheer weight of fire. The only ones left were the six SMG wielding Collectors.

Their arms snapped out, golden coloured biotic lashes appearing, crackling with energy. The Collectors hissed in unison and charged, surrounded by golden barriers.

"Well this is less than awesome."

Lizzie wasn't sure who said that, but it was an accurate summation of the situation. Seemingly oblivious to the weight of fire bearing down on them, the Collectors raised their arms and brought them arcing down, each lash impact on the ground creating a burst of golden light that sent the defenders sprawling.

One of the Collectors raised a hand, golden light issuing forth in a ball of energy that hit one of the colonists in the chest. She fell to the ground, mouth open in a silent shriek of pain as the attack stretched her limbs out into an X shape. Wriggling desperately, she managed to free her arms and one leg from the biotic field, but her left leg was still trapped when the gold pulsing flashes reached their climax. With a yanking motion from its hands, the Collector vanguard ripped her leg clean off, purple blood pumping out over the floor as she screamed in agony before passing out. Furious, Lizzie stood and flicked out her hand, Reaving the nearest one before firing up her Annihilation Field and charging.

As Lizzie closed in to the nearest vanguard, Garrus sighted down his rifle scope, pouring fire into the absurdly strong barriers of the next one over. Out of everyone in the crew, Lizzie was the best equipped to deal with biotic barriers - by Reaving them, she used the other Biotic's own strength against them. By comparison, Garrus had to get through them the old fashioned way.

Checking his HUD, he observed that the Collector he was firing on still had 10 per cent of its barrier left after a full magazine from his heavily customised Sharp. He was really starting to hate Collectors. As he pulled a fresh heat sink from his supply the Collector he had just been firing at spun on its heel, sending an orb of biotic energy at him. Not keen on being biotically dismembered like the poor Asari dead on the floor, he ducked behind cover. Only this time, cover didn't help much. With a rattling thump, the biotic attack was absorbed into the boulder he was sheltering behind, the rock and surrounding floor glowing gold for a moment before he was bodily flung into the air, crashing down on his back a moment later as a biotic lash snagged round his leg. He unleashed a torrent of curses as the Collector yanked on the lash, sending him skidding along the floor right into the engagement area.

Seeing the predicament of her Turian comrade in arms, Ash brought her sniper rifle to bear. The Collector's barrier still hadn't fully recovered from Garrus's assault, so she was able to break it with three shots. The fourth and fifth found the Collector's neck and chest respectively, the sixth its eye socket. It fell and didn't get back up, the lash dying to a narrow chitinous thread that Garrus untangled from his ankle.

Anderson caught a biotic orb on his Omnishield, only to have the flash forged tungsten carbide surface transmit the pulse through and send him flying, almost wrenching his arm off in the process and eliciting a surprised grunt as another biotic field caught his form mid-air, dangling him above the ground momentarily before accelerating him towards it. When he hit, the impact was equivalent to jumping off a four storey building. If not for his armour's shock absorbing gel layer the landing could have killed him. Instead it merely stunned him for a couple of seconds. While he was recovering, Taeri opened fire with her LMG, close range fire quickly overwhelming the Collector's barrier and forcing it to cover. Then it was her turn to use biotics. Beneath her armour, the bioelectric glands on her forearms dilated, superconducting filaments in the gauntlets directing the high voltage current to her fingertips where they entered the biotic field she was projecting. Arcing along the path of least resistance, the bolt of lightening shot straight for the Collector's cover, the low energy biotic field surrounding the boulder turning it into an enormous superconductor. The unfortunate bug on the other side was barbecued in its chitinous shell as the biotic/electric attack did its work. Once her target was down, and confident that the others were well in hand, she hauled Anderson to his feet.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

She blinked at him momentarily.

"More than one."

Lizzie dropped to a crouch, scanning the battlefield for new targets, finding none. Those Collector vanguards had been a tough fight, as shown by the body being borne back to the colony by her comrades. Panting, she plugged a tube of high energy serum into her helmet, sucking out the contents with a straw. After a fight, it was always useful to replenish her energy reserves, especially since she had a feeling Lash and Reave would be seeing heavy usage by the time the mission was done.

She observed the scuff marks on Garrus's armour, hiding her concern with amusement.

"Looks like someone took you for a ride."

"Har de bloody har."

They tromped back to the colony, Saren exchanging a few words with Fai Dan before splitting off, her, Garrus and Taeri in tow as they made their way down to the tunnel entrance.

"So what's on the shopping list, Captain?"

Saren ticked the items off on his fingers.

"Let's see. We need to kill some varren for food, get the water mains back open, scrounge power cells and take out a Collector comm hub. Should be easy, right?"


	30. Reapers (8)

Lizzie activated her Annihilation Field, the warping effect chewing away at the Varren pinning her to the floor as another one tried to chomp at her leg.

"Easy? This is not easy!"

Saren lifted one of the slavering beasts into the air, muscles straining as he slammed it to the ground just in time to be bowled over by one of its buddies.

"I spoke too soon!"

Cursing loudly, Garrus brought his sidearm to bear, his sniper and assault rifle having both been knocked away by angry Varren. Toggling the shotgun fire mode, he pressed it into the nearest varren and fired. The blast tore through flesh and split bone, yet the slavering beast kept coming, albeit with one leg hanging by a thread of sinew. Muttering to himself, he unleashed a concussive shot and sent the unfortunate beast flying back into two of its comrades.

Taeri had backed into a corner, a steady barrage of rounds from her LMG combined with lightening attacks keeping the claws and jaws of the varren horde at bay, but every time she had to reload or recharge her biotics they inched closer. Cursing, she tried a last resort, punching a gauntlet to the ground. Her biotic barrier was consumed in a blast that sent four legged bodies flying across the cave-like room they were hiding in, slowly recharging as she panned her LMG across the fallen varren.

A truly enormous beast appeared, roaring as it charged at the squad. Lizzie crushed the head of the varren on her chest, hurling the corpse at the alpha as she dropped to a crouch, swiftly following up with a Throw that knocked it back. Scrambling to his feet, Garrus rolled over to his sniper and pumped six bullets into the floored alpha, killing it with a pitiful whine. The rest of the pack, demoralised by the death of their leader, broke and fled.

Picking up her discarded weapons, Lizzie high-fived Taeri as the Atavira directed a kick into the cooling corpse of a Varren split open lengthways by an arc of biotic lightening.

"We could probably yank some power cells from that vehicle."

Sighing, Garrus disappeared into the crashed rover as the rest of the team stood guard. Hopefully the rest of the objectives would be slightly easier to accomplish.

###

The living crystal body Ko was consigned to moved smoothly, seeming to flow between the shadows as his grip tightened on the haft of his blade. Pausing only for a second, he rolled to a position behind a rock and crouched in the ready position, his mind humming a familiar refrain of power. If he was still capable of breathing, his breath would be coming fast and shallow. He knew these enemies. They would not pause until he was shattered, hunting him down with no pity or remorse. He had seen many of his kind felled by their monsters, both before and after their virus.

The society of the planet Yggradissil had been based on the technology of morphic crystal, a naturally occurring material that through means inexplicable to the greatest Grassa scientists could be reshaped by the energies of the mind. Ninety nine per cent of the Grassa species had been a hybrid of organic material and morphic crystal, the remaining one per cent split evenly between the handful untouched by morphic crystal augs, mostly newborn babies, and the select few who had transferred into bodies composed entirely of morphic crystal. He remembered it well. Organ failure was no stranger to the Grassa, a side effect of a long-obsolete evolutionary quirk and the reason they required so many morphic crystal augs in the first place, but eventually there reached a point where the organic body couldn't be saved by more chunks of the bluish crystal. At that point every Grassa had to make a choice - die with their body or be uploaded as a Stalwart, one of the consciousnesses that drove the morphic crystal bodies that kept Grassa society functioning. The choice wasn't so much of a no-brainer as many children believed. The lot of a Stalwart was that of a slave, their neural patterns treated to unthinking obedience toward the still-living, stored in a digital purgatory when not needed.

Of course, he wasn't taking any orders right now. He didn't think he ever would again. These creatures, these ... Collectors ... had invaded Yggradissil, the aggressors swiftly taking huge tracts of the planet before releasing the plague. The plague that made the Grassa immune system reject morphic crystal organs. Within twenty hours every Grassa with a single crystal implant was dead. All that remained was the babies who had yet to suffer an organ failure and the Stalwarts.

Ko usually travelled by merging his body back into the veins of morphic crystal shot through the planet, his raw consciousness moving through the material and reforming his body at his destination. The sleeping Grassa child in a sling on his back precluded that. He needed to fight his way past the Collectors and back to the encampment with the baby unharmed. Luckily, he wasn't alone.

His two companions, Va and Ji, paused ahead. Ji's smooth head panned around before he disappeared with a quiet grunt, scouting ahead and leaving Ko with Va. Ji had been a professional soldier before he elected to become a Stalwart, his strength, his life and even his death given to protect the Grassa people. Ko and Va had less noble stories. They were convicts, sentenced to an eternity as slaves for murder. They had been high out of their minds on a potent cocktail of stimulants and beaten an old man to death for no reason, and had spent the last forty seven years of their murky half-lives trying to atone.

By Grassa standards, Va had been beautiful. Her body was long and slender, her skin a heavenly shade of deep red, her horn long and thin, wrapping right round her head to the point where if she bent her neck back as far as she could the point just touched between her shoulder blades. The crystal body she resided in made a mockery of her organic body's beauty, her perfect form forever preserved in her sentence and cell combined. Ko was far more average in looks for a Grassa, his horn small and squat, his body short, thick and muscular.

Careful to avoid jostling the sleeping baby, Ko slung the blade on his back, the crystal melting back into his body. Va had created a sniper rifle from the excess crystal all Stalwarts carried on missions, the scope held up to her smooth, featureless head more as force of habit than anything else - she had probably transferred her vision directly into the weapon's scope as she panned it around. Before the Collector invasion neither of them had the first clue when it came to martial matters, but dicing with death on a daily basis made for fast learners. Ko formed his own weapon and pulled it off his back. His mastery of the morphic crystal could never hope to match Va so he fell back on a tried and tested design rather than the customised lance held by his lover. His weapon was a starcannon, a rapid fire plasma weapon that fired torrents of miniature stars at its targets, using the planet's atmosphere as ammunition. By comparison, Va's weapon was a heavily modified directed resonance rifle, also known as a seismogun, using intense localised pressure waves to make material shake itself apart at the molecular level.

"Looks clear. Ji?"

Moments later the enormous form of their companion appeared beside them, startling Ko. He could not fathom how someone so large could be so stealthy.

"All clear. Straight shot to the tunnels."

Taking off, the three Stalwarts sprinted into the mouth of the tunnel, the morphic crystal closing up behind them.

Walking through a secret crystal tunnel was a strange experience. The tunnel opened itself up from the solid crystal face in front of them, sealing up again behind them to create the illusion they were walking in a bubble of air. Of course, they weren't - they were in hard vacuum, the child protected by a layer of crystal until they reached the encampment itself.

The encampment was built in a system of natural caves formed from regular rock, not the miracle crystal. Air circulated through the system but the drops were too steep and the tunnels too narrow for the Collectors to access them. The only way in was where a vein of morphic crystal intersected the system. There were almost two thousand babies in this cave alone, tended by about three hundred Stalwarts.

Handing off the still-dozing child to another Stalwart, he nodded to Ji who didn't respond as he stalked off. Ko and Va had become used to the cold shoulder - it was the fate of those Stalwarts sentenced to crystal for a crime to be looked down upon by the self proclaimed 'noble Stalwarts', or those who had elected to serve even after death. Shedding the chunks of extra crystal strapped to their backs, the two of them made their way to a smaller cave, only accessible by a difficult climb. It was their little private space.

Once inside, Va slumped against the wall, sighing, seemingly uncaring as her delicate horn scraped against the hard stone.

"I'm tired of this living hell, Ko."

He sat down beside her, laying a hand on her knee.

"We all are. Three hundred babies in that maternity ward and we managed to save one from the Collector kill-team."

A faint sniffle told him that if Va had tear-ducts she would be crying.

"No, not that. These bodies. These prisons. I hate it!"

She leaned into him and he was suddenly aware of her body pressed against his. A pink mist descended over his vision. Apparently she had the same sensation, for she rolled onto her back, sprawling with her legs splayed. He settled his hips between her thighs, slowly rolling them in that way that used to drive her wild. The only reward he received was the grinding sound of crystal on crystal. The lust faded from his mind and he collapsed onto his lover, fist pounding the floor as sorrow and anger built up inside him. Sure, they could manipulate the crystal of their bodies to more closely resemble the male and female form, but what was the point? Not even Va had the mastery of morphic crystal necessary to recreate the complex nerve endings they needed to make love like they used to. What was the point of any of it?

Beneath him, Va wriggled her arms free and wrapped them around his torso, whispering quiet sounds of comfort. Grassa neural patterns didn't - couldn't - degrade. They weren't even allowed the escape insanity would bring from their curse. Focusing her mind, she started reshaping her body. It was always a great mental effort holding anything approximating her old organic form, but seeing herself, seeing Ko see herself as she had once been stove off the grief and rage for a while. Her featureless face began to change, depressions forming that resolved into eyes, vertical slit-like nostrils appearing either side of the base of her horn as a beak-like mouth resolved beneath it. Hard armoured pauldrons shrunk down, excess crystal crawling down her torso as a pair of slim shoulders revealed themselves, the ridge of a collarbone prominent. The amorphous lump on her chest split in two, each section slowly resolving itself into a smooth breast as the crystalline armour reshaped itself into a traditional robe that hung about her shoulders like a tabard, twin strips coming down her torso to meet at the waist and hang down between her legs. She left her forearms and lower legs in their armoured battle-forms to conserve energy, well aware that holding her shape would prove taxing.

Ko was momentarily startled when he looked down and saw not a blank battle-mask but a concerned face looking at him. Inwardly smiling, he shifted his own form to match, battlemask and crystal armour replaced by a smiling face and hard muscles beneath a thin tunic. Suddenly mindful of his position, he shifted and allowed Va to sit, resting against the opposite wall of the cave with his ankles touching hers. He knew that if he gave in to his lust again it would only hurt them both but with her so close, looking like that, it was hard. To distract his errant mind, he initiated a conversation.

"Why do you suppose they invaded?"

Va shook her head.

"Can anyone fathom minds as alien as the Collectors? They swarm us, we kill as many as we can before we are overwhelmed."

Ko sighed.

"A bleak outlook."

"Bleaker than what our lives would be had the Collectors not attacked?"

He snorted, nostrils dilating and the air chamber in the base of his horn vibrating to make a deep hooting sound. She did make a fair point.

"All this running and hiding grows tiresome. Our species is extinct."

"Then what would you have us do?"

Va's voice was strained, showing the effort required to maintain her more complex form was taking its toll. Ko could feel the effort required to prevent him from slipping back into his battle shape steadily mounting.

"March out there and face the Collectors down. One last grand battle, then the Grassa die with dignity."

Va didn't like that at all.

"What of the young? You would abandon them? There is still hope!"

Ko could feel his own temper rising and he fought to remain calm.

"They are dead already, they just don't know it. Their cells still teem with the Collector plague. How old were you when your first organ failed?"

When Va replied, her voice was subdued.

"Two years, three months and fourteen days. Liver, if I remember correctly."

"For me it was the day after my first birthday. Pancreas. I remember my mother telling me about it. My father hit his horn on the breakfast table, muttered 'about time' and shoved his news-crystal down my throat. When one of those children loses an organ we won't be able to shove a news-crystal down their throats. That would kill them just as surely as if we did nothing. Face it, Va. Even if every Collector on the planet dropped dead the Grassa are finished."

Va was trembling, eyes wide, unable to cry so instead making a low keening noise. Ko pulled her into his arms, gently rocking her, wishing he could shed tears. He heard the humming sound as Va relinquished her mental effort and her body reverted back to its Stalwart frame and he quickly followed suit, unwilling to mentally over exert himself. He didn't tell her it was okay. They both knew that was a lie.

###

Swearing mildly, Lizzie refilled her canteen from the freshly repaired water mains, emptying two sachets of biotic energy serum into it, capping and shaking then taking a deep drink. The sharp orange bite cleared away the dry, gummy sensation in her mouth from the amount of energy she had just burned dodging Collector bullets and cannon blasts. The single Scion had been complicated by the fact that Taeri couldn't use her rocket launcher so close to the water pipes but Saren and Garrus had quickly taken it down with a mixture of Incinerate tech and sniper rounds. It turned out the bulbous sac on their right shoulder contained a store of coolant for their cannon arm, meaning that not only did it hurt when destroyed but it also drastically reduced the fire rate of the Scion's main weapon.

With the water flowing, Saren led them through the tunnels, pausing as they saw something up ahead. A flash of blue confirmed it as an Asari colonist.

As they approached, she held up a hand. She was in a sorry state. Skin covered in a mix of dirt and blood, on all fours with scabby hands and knees, breath coming in rattling gasps.

"Don't come any closer!"

Her voice was an animalistic shriek. Saren cued his faceplate to become transparent.

"It's okay. We'll take you back to the colony."

To his surprise, she only screamed harder at that suggestion.

"No! Don't take meAAAAAAAIE!"

Her sentence terminated in a wail of pain as a blue aura appeared around her, opening up fresh cuts across her skin and prompting her to cough up a glut of violet blood.

"Don't make me like them! Don't want ... don't want to change ... No! I won'tAAAAAAAAIE!"

Her scream was accompanied by another blue flare and fresh cuts opening up on her body. With matching horror, Lizzie and Garrus realised what was happening at the same time.

"She's warping herself!"

Saren held up a hand.

"Stay back. If she pulls that stunt while we're too close we'll get caught in her warp field."

The girl dragged herself to her feet, leaving bloody handprints on the wall.

"I ... He'll take me. Use me to make more ... No! Nonononono ..."

She dropped to her knees.

"He took my sister. My mother. My daughter. Not me though."

They all took a step back.

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

She ran at the squad, biotics flaring, leaving a contrail of biotically charged droplets of violet blood. The biotic effect she was surrounded in was similar to Lizzie's Annihilation Field, only it was affecting its user as well.

The squad wasted no time. Four weapons barked, chewing the Asari's torso into purple mince. Without a barrier, she fell almost immediately, the biotic effect disappearing as she lay still in a steadily expanding pool of her own blood, unquestionably and irrevocably dead.

Taeri accurately summed up the squad's thoughts on the matter.

"The hell was that?"

###

A/N: I don't usually take a siesta in the middle of a combat mission but I need to think Feros through a bit more. Hence the slight deviation from topic. Hopefully you guys will like my new OCs - I'm really fond of Ko and Va myself. Feedbacks always appreciated.


	31. Reapers (9)

A/N: Apologies for the delay. Writer's block's a bitch. I'm starting to think this story is getting less reviews than it used to and I really depend on your feedback to motivate me, so please leave your two cents even if it's telling me how much you hated it.

###

Zu was the leader of the band of Stalwarts Ko and Va belonged to. Standing at almost nine feet tall, he was one of the most ancient Stalwarts at almost four thousand years old. A living legend among his followers, a cautionary tale to Grassa children. It was said that in his glory days as an organic Zu was a warlord on the great crystal plains, his mind so powerful the very ground would rise up under his control and crush whole armies in one. His fiefdom grew until it was the largest on the planet, and from across the world Grassa would come to seek his aid or protection. The adulation got to him. He began believing himself to be a god, his fiefdom descending into anarchy as he retreated into his crystal keep, swiftly transforming his once mighty fortress into a den of hedonism and debauchery, taking young females from across his kingdom and imprisoning them for his own use as slaves and entertainment. Eventually his own warriors rose up against him, demanding he face them. Under the misguided belief that he was a god, he went out to face the army of ten thousand alone, naked and drunk. Instead of killing him, they imprisoned his mind in the crystal walls of his own keep, fated to be a slave to whoever ruled the fiefdom. At least, that was the story.

Regardless of his origins, Zu was the largest, the fastest and the most adept at morphing crystal that Ko had ever seen. He was a crack shot and a master swordsman, nigh invincible on the battlefield. He stood in the centre of the encampment, his followers gathered round as his deep voice boomed out.

"Brothers and sisters, I bring grim news. It is as we feared. A child suffered a heart failure and his body rejected the crystal replacement. The boy did not survive. To that end I have made a decision. As many children as possible are to be placed in cryogenic suspension."

He held up an enormous crystalline hand, halting the murmurs spreading through the crowd.

"The nurses have agreed with my recommendation and are drawing up a tabulation as we speak. Priority will be assigned based on a child's genetics and gender, with a ratio of three female to one male until all female children are in suspension. To that end, warriors will be sent out to secure supplies of ice-blood. The remaining components will be constructed from morph-crystal and set up in the lowest cave. Warriors, prepare for your assignments."

Exchanging a glance, Ko and Va gathered round with the rest of the warriors. He couldn't say he agreed with Zu's scheme but he wasn't there to debate. He was there to follow orders. They listened as Zu assigned them to their teams and objectives. They would be moving in strike teams of four. Ko and Va were partnered with two Stalwarts they didn't know called Re and Su. Re was an enormous tank of a creature, his horn long and thick, looking like it could be used as a melee weapon in its own right. By contrast Su was a waif, the smallest and frailest Stalwart Ko had ever seen. She cowered behind Re, seemingly afraid of the others. Re nudged her forward.

"My daughter."

Su anxiously held out a hand in greeting before scuttling back behind her father, who put a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Come. We have much work to do."

###

Lizzie's rifle spat rounds downrange, the weapon barking as she fired on the Collectors protecting whatever device they had in their possession. The flurry of bullets splashed across the linked barrier of a soldier trio, barely diminishing it before she ducked back into cover.

Although the Collector jamming algorithm was protecting the squad from being frozen in place by seeker swarms, it turned out the Captains could wield the bugs as a tactical weapon, manually directing small swarms to latch onto her and disrupt her Omnitool and biotic amps. She considered herself incredibly fortunate her signal jammer and weapons hadn't been affected yet. All four of them had tens of the tiny creatures crawling on them, biotics and tech locked down tight, relying on bullets and foul language to get the job done.

Her rifle still held loosely in one hand, Lizzie pulled out her Arkbuster and checked the three lift grenades within, then pumped all three into the advancing soldier group. Their fire directed at Taeri, they didn't even see the grenades until the first two broke their barrier and the last one yanked them off the ground, the force of the lift snapping bones and the slam to the ground finishing off what was left.

Her cackles were abruptly halted by a familiar roar.

"Brutes."

The team immediately backed up to the end of the corridor.

"Taeri, how many rockets do you have left?"

Quickly checking, Taeri answered.

"Three. One HE, one incendiary and one arc."

Lizzie noticed that without the line of sight to the Captain hiding at the far end of the corridor the Seekers had seemingly lost interest and flown off. The familiar tingle of her biotics returning to her bolstered her confidence.

"Bring it on!"

The first Brute rounded the corner, only to be hit full in the face by Taeri's incendiary rocket. White hot plasma spread across its form, the blast washing the flames round the corner and most likely incinerating several Collectors. The Brute continued advancing as Saren threw a warp field, biotic energy playing across its armour and eliciting an enraged roar. Lizzie followed up with a Throw, the biotic detonation blasting chunks off the Collector creature. Garrus finished it off with a volley from his sniper rifle.

Brutes Two and Three chose that moment to charge. Sheltered behind the corpse of the first one, they managed to weather the initial onslaught that felled their compatriot. The squad broke into a sprint, moving into a slightly wider corridor just as the Brutes caught up.

The first one swung its claw, catching Saren in the gut and sending him flying into a wall. Lizzie Reaved it, the extra energy in her barrier saving her as the second one blindsided her, bowling her over. She barely managed to roll out of the way of the creature's claw as it came crashing down towards her. She was well aware that a single smash could put her out of commission. Her rifle skittered out of her gasp and she fired up her Annihilation Field and her Mak-Chan amp. Both amps would suck biotic energy away from her other amp circuits, decreasing the speed with which she could deploy them, but the extra close combat boost was worth it.

She kicked off a wall, coming in behind a Brute that was preparing to charge at the downed Taeri. With a grunt she leaped onto its back, a fist raised, surrounded in a biotic aura shaped for maximum force on impact. The creature's head jarred sharply forward, eliciting an enraged roar as synthetic tendons and bones snapped. Inexplicably the Brute was still standing despite its head being attached by a thread, something that took Lizzie by surprise. The beast flipped, almost crushing her beneath its armoured bulk. She managed to roll out of the way in time, taking advantage of the belly-up Brute and leaping onto its stomach, unleashing a blistering flurry of biotically infused blows as her Annihilation Field chewed away at the beast's metallic skin.

The Brute finally fell to her assault and she hopped off its corpse just in time to witness Saren finishing off the last one with a colossal biotic detonation.

"Everyone good?"

There were a series of nods all round.

"Good. Blow up that whatever it is and let's get out of here."


	32. Reapers (10)

A/N: Well, I'm back in the zone. If anyone can legitimately tell me they saw this one coming I owe you an Internet cookie.

###

When the team got back to the colony Lizzie could immediately tell something wasn't right. The biotic bubble was down and every single Asari colonist had vanished. They found the other two teams clustered in a defensive position in the centre of the colony, surrounded by bullet-riddled Collector corpses.

"Report."

Anderson and Auhelu explained how the colonists had suddenly vanished, leaving them on their own against the wave of Collectors that had swarmed over the encampment. One of the Atavira soldiers was dead, a Turian critically wounded. Saren unleashed a kick into one of the dead Collectors before rallying his soldiers.

"Normandy, report. I need to know the ETA of the nearest Collector team."

The response was quick.

"This is the Normandy. We've been using our GARDIAN lasers to shoot down any airborne Collector forces so they're moving on foot. Closest ones are thirty five minutes out."

Saren nodded slowly, thinking about his options.

"Okay then. Anderson, Auhelu hold the colony. I have an idea where they might have gone."

He strode over to the cargo crane and tapped a couple of buttons, bringing the crane online. With another button a section of the freighter that was the centrepiece of the colony lifted up, revealing a tunnel entrance. Saren grinned smugly.

"I knew there was something off about how they were weirdly protective of the crane."

"Good catch, boss. Shall we?"

Saren rallied his team and led the way down the hole as the others secured the colony.

###

Ko's team were halfway to their destination when Zu's voice rang in their heads.

"All Stalwarts return to base. We are under threat."

Sharing alarmed glances, the team morphed their weapons back into the crystal blocks on their backs and started sprinting, diving into the nearest crystal node and sending their consciousnesses flying through the vein of crystal. They erupted from the other end of the crystal vein, sprinting the fifty metres across to the next node and remorphing their bodies, flowing through the landscape like fish leaping through the waves. At one point they ran headfirst into a small group of Collectors, extruding decidedly gothic bladed weapons from their crystal packs and leaving a scattering of body parts and black blood splatters in their wake.

When they erupted back into the cave they found the majority of the other Stalwarts had already arrived and were ready for battle. Zu nodded briefly at them.

"Excellent, you're all here. There's a crystal vein that will lead you to where the Collector forces are amassing. Your objective is to destroy them at all costs."

Nodding grimly, Ko joined the remainder of the Stalwart warriors in diving into the crystal vein.

###

Lizzie looked around the room in amazement, gawping at their surroundings. The long stairwell had led the fire team into a straight corridor that extended ahead of them, branching off at regular intervals into what were undoubtedly laboratories of some sort.

"So what are we looking at?"

"Um ... Labs, I guess."

"No shit."

The team continued in silence, marginally unnerved by the quiet of the corridor. Every time they spoke their voices sounded like intruders in the hushed rooms. Picking their way along the corridor, they finally reached the central chamber, passing through a doorway and looking up in surprise at what greeted them.

The room was long and slightly pinched in the middle, each bulge containing a different wonder. The one on their right contained an enormous, grotesque plant-like creature, slow breaths filling the chamber with a rumbling sound, tendrils dripping slime onto the ground. To their left, an enormous prism of blue tinged crystal, slowly pulsating with waves of luminescence. The walls of the chamber were completely covered, plant growths merging seamlessly with crystal struts and plates in a bizarre clash of organic and crystalline matter. Saren's mandibles drooped in amazement.

"This ... is not what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?"

All four of them whirled around as the second voice sounded, a pleasant male baritone with a flanging effect similar to a Turian voice.

"Who's there?"

Another voice, this time a female one sounding slightly strained.

"Show yourselves!"

After a moment of hesitation, Saren motioned them forward, stepping out into the open. Then they caught sight of what was hanging on the ceiling.

Asari. Hundreds, if not thousands of them suspended by their wrists, plantlike tendrils plugged into the back of their necks. They ranged from babies to adults of what Lizzie guessed were about four hundred years old, all the exact same shape, size, colour. With a jolt, she realised what she was looking at. Clones.

Saren apparently realised this too.

"What in the name of the Spirits is a clone army doing down here?"

The strained female voice responded once more.

"I speak for the Old Growth."

A tendril shifted, opening up to reveal an Asari body plugged into what looked like wickerwork restraints, her body covered in pulsating plant tendrils.

"I speak as I once spoke for Benezia. I am Shiala."

###

Ko erupted from the crystal once more, instantly aware that his surroundings were very, very different. He had never seen such a place as the one he found himself in. Silently stalking into cover, he peered round, listening in on the conversation taking place between two of what were undoubtedly alien life forms. Somehow he could understand them.

"Benezia? Is she here?"

"Matriarch Benezia left this planet several hours before you arrived. She got what she wanted and ordered the Collectors to destroy the Old Growth and the crystalline one. Your intervention is most welcome."

Ko shifted slightly, confused. None of this was what he was expecting.

"What is this ... Old Growth?"

There was a brief pause before another voice took up the slack, this one male, very similar to a Grassa voice yet coming from no visible speaker.

"Like me, the Old Growth was moved to this planet by the Protheans for study around fifty five thousand years ago. I am Yggradissil."

Ko couldn't take it any more. Stepping into full view and ignoring the sound of weapons snapping up, he faced the chunk of morph crystal, fists clenched as he angrily glared.

"What! What is this?"

The crystal didn't move but Ko sensed the attention of the vast intelligence within turn to him.

"Ko. I am so sorry for what you are about to learn."

###

Lizzie spun round, her rifle tucked into her shoulder as a crystal armoured creature stepped out, facing the central chunk of crystal with clenched fists.

"Ko. I am so sorry for what you are about to learn. The Grassa died out almost one hundred thousand years ago, slaughtered by an enemy we couldn't hope to comprehend. As a last resort the consciousnesses of every survivor were concealed in this morphic crystal monolith, fused into a gestalt intelligence named after our lost home planet, Yggradissil. We drifted in space for forty five thousand years before being found and moved here by the Protheans."

There was a slight pause as other crystal men emerged slowly, Lizzie realising with a start that the Normandy team had been surrounded.

"Over time the gestalt decayed and certain consciousnesses became detached, those who had been Stalwarts before the final uploading. Together your minds created the fiction of our home you have been living in."

The one called Ko raised an accusing finger, pointing angrily at the crystal.

"Then why did we experience a Collector attack if we've been living in a happy little fantasy?"

There was another pause as a slighter crystal form stepped up beside Ko, slipping a hand into his.

"Because we did experience a Collector attack. What you perceived as a Collector plague weapon was a hacking attempt that dealt severe damage to our central programs. What you perceived as attacking Collector patrols and saving infants was your consciousnesses attacking Collector programs and recovering vulnerable segments of the gestalt."

In the stunned silence the Asari mouthpiece of the Old Growth spoke.

"I am truly sorry. Over the years, Yggradissil has been a friend to me, stove off the loneliness and the anger it brings. I can tell you that the Grassa yet live in him."

Anxious to get the conversation back on track, Saren addressed the Old Growth.

"What was Benezia after?"

"The Cipher. Benezia needed it to understand the data from the Prothean beacon she encountered on Thessia."

"What is this Cipher?"

There was a rattling boom from somewhere nearby and six of the crystal creatures split off, weapons seemingly extruded from their own body as they moved towards the source of the sound.

"The Cipher is the sum of Prothean mentality, the very essence of being Prothean. It subtly alters the receiver's brain, allowing them to correctly interpret Prothean data."

Gulping, Lizzie stepped forward.

"Sir, this Cipher could help me understand the data from Eden Prime."

Saren turned to her, frowning as Garrus laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Lizzie, no. She said it would alter your brain."

"He's right. I won't order you to do this."

She shook her head at Saren.

"No need sir. I'm volunteering."

At Garrus's protest she turned to him, inclining her forehead to his.

"We've been one step behind Benezia this whole time. The data could help us get ahead. Please Garrus, I need to do this."

He growled low in his throat and stepped back, letting her make the decision. She stepped forward to the Asari suspended in the Old Growth's tendril.

"Lieutenant-Commander. Take a deep breath and clear your mind. Open yourself to the universe around you, everything connected, part of a whole."

Her eyes flicked to midnight black.

"Embrace Eternity!"

###

Garrus fought the urge to punch something as Lizzie went perfectly still, linked to the Asari who was in turn subsumed by the plant creature. To say he was worried was a colossal understatement. For all he knew the Asari could be brainwashing his girlfriend.

He started as Lizzie suddenly slumped to the floor, rushing towards her and helping her stagger to her feet.

"You okay?"

She grunted and rubbed her helmet.

"Bit dizzy. Just need a lie down."

Then she collapsed, drawing a pained cry from Garrus as he caught her. Shiala looked down at the pair of them.

"It will take time to process the Cipher. It is a great gift but also a burden."

Without warning, the crystal calling itself Yggradissil pulsed rapidly blue.

"The Collectors are pulling back. They mean to bombard the area from orbit."

There was a brief silence.

"I'm sorry."

The next words were a deep rumble - the voice of the Old Growth itself.

"Do not grieve for me, my friend. It is possible to grow tired of life, something that happened to me long ago. Take my soldiers. Their DNA is still in flux, perhaps the Grassa may live again as they once did. Goodbye, Yggradissil."


	33. Reapers (11)

A/N: My thanks to reviewer raw666. All I really needed was a good swift kick up the ass. Also, triple cliffhanger.

###

Lizzie cracked open her eyes, groaning as her vision was assaulted by the overhead lights. She heard the sounds of shifting bodies and tilted her head over to see Garrus asleep in a chair, Nari curled up snoozing in his lap. Examining her surroundings, she noticed she was in the medical bay of the Normandy.

She clutched at her head, wincing as something flashed across her vision, blinking to dispel the afterimage of whatever it was she just saw. Her movements obviously woke Nari because the next thing she knew a small Batarian missile had hit her in the chest, yammering excitedly. The commotion woke Garrus, who gripped her hand, silently communicating his relief.

It didn't take long for her to receive the lowdown on what had occurred on Feros after she had been laid out by the Cipher. They had discovered the Collectors intended to bombard the area from orbit. Yggradissil had transformed himself into some sort of creature, crawled out of the ruins and made off into space with most of the Stalwarts and the Old Growth's clone army, minus Shiala and a small unit of Stalwarts who were staying aboard the Normandy to fill the holes in their squad makeup. They had suffered casualties on Feros - two Atavira and one Turian had been killed, another Turian had a permanently debilitating injury and Kaidan had to undergo emergency surgery after a Collector vanguard managed to overstress his biotic implant. She felt a deep sadness at the loss of the Old Growth. Such an ancient and dignified creature deserved a better death than destruction by orbital fire.

Of the Asari colonists, most of them had been killed in the initial attack. The Asari the Normandy team had fought alongside had been Old Growth clones masquerading as the colonists, the few other species present somehow being controlled to believe the clones were the real deal. They had disappeared when the Old Growth had recalled them, perhaps anticipating the coming Collector assault. She knew that the abandonment of Anderson and Auhelu and their teams had led to the casualties they had sustained but she couldn't find it within herself to be angry at the Old Growth.

After a brief discourse with Dr. Chakwas, the ship's head physician, she made her way out of the medbay and into the mess hall, sitting down and eating as many ration packs as she could get her hands on. Garrus made her sit and insisted on serving her and although she protested she secretly enjoyed the attention being foisted on her. He even picked out her favourite MREs - scrambled egg smoked salmon and chicken chorizo casserole. Nari dug into a thai green curry pack as she ate, alternating between chewing on the artificially synthesised chicken protein analogue and excitedly describing her day - "Mr. Joker let me sit in his chair!" - while Lizzie chain-chomped her way through no less than five ration packs.

Once she was done, Garrus sat Nari down with her sketchpad and walked with her, steering her towards their cabin.

"Garrus ..."

"You need a lie down."

"Garrus ..."

He snorted in amusement.

"Thanks to you I've become quite good at reading humans. You're wiped out and you need proper sleep, not Prothean induced unconsciousness."

She grumbled and griped but allowed him to tug her into the cabin, making sure she was in her pyjamas with her teeth brushed like she was six years old. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

###

Garrus was annoyingly right as usual. All she needed to sort her loaf out was a good seven hours uninterrupted shut-eye. She awoke at around three AM ship time, groaning as she stretched and looked around. Garrus and Nari were both fast asleep so she tiptoed past them, quickly changing into a plain white T-shirt and uniform trousers before padding out and to the mess hall.

When she got there, she noticed a shape sitting at one of the tables. Coming closer, she saw it was one of the Stalwarts, Ko if she remembered correctly. She slid into the seat opposite him, the crystalline creature tilting his head up and dispassionately examining her for a moment before resuming his staring match with the table.

"Are you okay?"

Ko merely looked at her again for a moment, then dipped his head again, rubbing his horn. After a moment he replied.

"No, no I'm not. But thanks for asking."

After a moment's hesitation Lizzie laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Ko initially looked like he was contemplating shaking her hand off but he capitulated.

"It's just ... All this time I thought I was atoning for what I did, helping the Grassa survive when in reality it was all just a simulation. I might as well have spent the last, I don't know how long, playing a video game."

She collected her thoughts before replying.

"I'm not going to pretend to understand the situation, it's one I've never been in before. But the way I see it, it doesn't matter whether it was real or not. What matters is whether or not you believed it was real."

They sat in silence for a moment before Ko looked up.

"I suppose you're right."

###

Wrex looked at the vessel with pride.

"The Kalros. This is the true rebirth of the Krogan."

He turned to the camera, his scarred visage staring out of every vid screen on Tuchanka.

"For too long the Krogan have been selling themselves out as mercenaries and pirates. Thanks to our allies the Blue Suns and the Earth bloc, we are being reborn. For the first time in two thousand years the Krogan have friends amongst the stars."

He paused for a moment, building the drama.

"The Genophage is our curse, our reminder and our lesson. Through it we learned that we aren't invincible, that just because a species may be smaller or weaker it doesn't mean they can't hurt us. I can tell you now, the Genophage is weakening its grip. In the past thirty years birth rates across the planet have doubled. Our systems are adapting, working around the Genophage. That was the first step in the liberation of the Krogan. The second step was the terraforming initiative. With our Earth allies we began harvesting ice comets, brought them in to jump start our ecosystem, built mighty cities and modified the Salarian Shroud to scrub our atmosphere of radioactive gases. This is the third step. The return of the Krogan as a galactic power. Now we are faced with a choice. Do we abuse this power, repeat the mistakes of the past? Or do we get back to what the Krogan do best - saving everyone else from giant monsters? I know what I choose. The question is - what do you choose?"

Councillor Tevos froze the video, dominated by the face of Tuchanka's leader with the enormous dreadnought in the background.

"This is a problem."

Before any of the other Councillors could interject she bulled ahead.

"The CDEM was created to ensure the Krogan could never become a threat again. We turned a blind eye to their terraforming efforts but this is too much."

"Tevos ..."

"They have a dreadnought, Sparatus. A dreadnought."

"I am well aware of that, Tevos."

"Then what do you propose to do about it?"

"Nothing."

Both Tevos and Valern stared at him.

"At least not until the Collector situation is resolved. Let us only fight one war at a time. Besides, I have spoke with Wrex in the past. I doubt he plans to attack us."

Tevos narrowed his eyes.

"Spoke with him? In what capacity?"

"We shared a drink in the embassy lounge of Arcturus Station a couple of months ago. I was quite impressed by his terraforming plans."

There was another awkward silence.

"Sooner or later you'll have to choose between the Council and the Earth bloc, Sparatus."

###

Primarch Fedorian accepted the comm call, frowning as he read the user ID.

"Councillor? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Examining the visage on the screen before him, Fedorian noticed the man looked unusually harried. Historically, the Primarch and the Councillor never saw eye to eye and Fedorian's relationship with Sparatus was no exception.

"If it came to a war between the Council and the Earth bloc which side would we take?"

Fedorian's knee-jerk reaction was to say 'the Council'. Almost immediately afterwards he felt the urge to say 'the Earth bloc'. Ignoring both instincts, he stopped and thought about it for a while.

"You know, it's hard to say. Going on a purely historical standpoint I would have to say the Council, but there are more issues to consider than that. Economically speaking, our inclusion in the HR pact and our use of AI ties us far closer to the Earth bloc than the Council. Our relations with the Asari have become increasingly strained of late, with several Asari corporations being ousted by US, USSR or Union competitors while ninety per cent of Council affiliated corporations operating in Earth bloc space are Hierarchy or Vol Protectorate run. Then there's the military perspective to consider. If we took the side of the Council both sides would be more or less evenly matched, if we took the side of the Earth blog the war would be almost comically one-sided. At any rate I could expect that with either side there'd be massive civilian outcry."

Sparatus rubbed his mandibles.

"Sounds like the easiest solution would be to remain neutral."

"Yes, I suppose it would."

###

The Illusive Man nodded at his display, deep in thought as he pondered the three dossiers before him. All three of the personnel were his top agents, each one with hundreds of kills to their name and at least fifty successful operations.

"Show Leng, Lawson and Ezno in, please."

All three agents filed into the room, nodding at him respectfully.

"An opportunity has arisen, agents. Your orders are to capture the target, alive."

Ezno frowned as he read the dossier.

"Sir, this is a fifteen year old girl."

"That fifteen year old girl represents the closest Cerberus has ever came to unlocking true biotic potential in a human subject. Don't return until you have captured Jack."

###

The bridge crew of the Kalros were very, very excited. Today was the launching of the Krogan fleet, marking their rebirth as a galactic power.

"All stations check in."

The dreadnought's captain, Raik Krull, reclined in his command throne as the various departments of his ship all checked in.

"Helm check."

"Tactical check."

"Sensors check."

"Gunnery check."

"Engineering check."

"Damage control check."

"Life support check."

"Generators check."

"Wormhole drive check."

Nodding in satisfaction, he gestured at the viewing screen that displayed the rocky wall of the vast underground shipyard.

"Take us out, helm."

"Destination locked."

Gantries and support struts retracted as a deep red portal appeared before the ship, through which could be seen a starry void.

"Engage."

The thrusters flared and the mighty Krogan dreadnought surged through the portal, appearing neatly in the staging area the fleet had selected on the edge of the system. Two dreadnoughts, a carrier, ten cruisers and sixteen frigates all emerged, fully armed and ready for combat.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, the Krogan fleet or the Collector task force that just so happened to be passing through that exact area on their way to attack Tuchanka.

###

Lizzie smiled at Nari as she tottered into the mess hall dressed in her pyjamas and yawning.

"Morning sleepyhead."

She mumbled an acknowledgement as she scaled a mess chair, the height of the furniture conspiring to make it do that her top pair of eyes were just peeping over the edge of the table. Smiling, Lizzie piled up a couple of cushions on the seat, bringing Nari up to a more conventional height.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes please."

Lizzie was halfway to the refrigerator when she collapsed onto the floor, dimly aware of Nari's panicked cries as Prothean visions flashed across her mind.


	34. Reapers (12)

The Kalros and her sister ship the Antros just so happened to be facing the largest of the Collector ships, something Krull was very, very pleased about.

"Open gun ports."

Throughout the Krogan armada slabs of hyper-dense stone armour levered open, exposing the barrels of the formidable armaments the ships carried and making the entire ship rattle. The Collectors started reacting sluggishly as the two Tuchanka class dreadnoughts lined up their main batteries.

"Fire the main gun."

A cherry red triple beam leaped forth from the prow of the Kalros, swiftly joined by that of the Antros. The weapons, known among the Krogan engineers as ether beams, functioned by firing a stream of molten tungsten from an internal reservoir at the target. The first trio of beams devastated the Collector flagship, the second set from Antros merely sealing the deal. Moments later the broadsides of the dreadnoughts lit up as volleys of ether beam fire lanced out, smashing into the Collector cruisers that only just reacted, golden particle beams crisscrossing the far more numerous ether beams. The frigates and cruisers accompanying the Krogan fleet joined in, the frigates forming up into pairs and harassing the smaller Collector vessels as the cruisers provided the hitting power, blowing through barriers and hull alike. The carrier joined in with her close defence armament, brutally effective in the chaotic melee of vessels. Being outnumbered and outclassed by the Krogan ships, the Collectors were quickly annihilated.

Cheers filled the bridge of the Kalros as the last Collector vessel exploded. Frowning at his display, Krull checked over the damage report. Three frigates had their shields breached but the miracle stone of their armour had saved them from the particle beams, with only one, the Drogal, showing minor damage. He brought his crews back to attention with a sharp command.

"I want all ships to patrol the system. The Collectors no doubt will send more. Captains, if you ID Collector forces signal the fleet. We'll converge and crush them. Nobody go on any suicide runs, okay? Drogal, return to base and get that hull breach seen to."

The fleet split apart, wormholes opening as they moved to a standard patrol pattern. Nodding at the display, Krull sent his ship into the void.

###

Lizzie groaned and rubbed her forehead.

"I'm starting to make this a habit."

Garrus chuckled from his seat beside her bed in the medbay.

"On the bright side, I've pretty much moulded this seat to my butt."

She looked around.

"Where's the little monster?"

"Playing with Kelly in the observation lounge. Are you okay?"

She rubbed her head again, somewhat surprised at the sudden lack of the minor headache that had plagued her since Eden Prime.

"Yeah. I think I am. Any idea what happened?"

He shrugged.

"From what the docs tell me the cipher kicked in. Your brain needed to reboot, or something."

"Yeah. The visions seem much clearer now and I can sort of access them at will, instead of just having them sneaking up on me. Hello ..."

"What?"

She frowned again.

"I just got the Collector codex. There's sections missing but I have a whole bunch of information on the Collectors. Do we have any samples of their weaponry?"

Garrus looked at her askance.

"Yeah, down in the lab. Why?"

"I just had an idea."

###

Tali tensed up, bending both sets of knees and compressing her legs, hands clenched into fists. She sprang upwards, flinging her arms up and her head back, arcing over the laser beam. Harnessing the momentum from her backflip, she slid into a slide under another laser, kicking her legs up and springing off her hands then twisting her body in midair, hooking a foot round the neck of the training dummy and bringing her other foot to the side of its head, knocking away the laser emitter with one hand while the other supported her on the floor. With a single rapid wrenching motion she snapped the dummy's neck with her legs, springing into a catlike crouch.

Taeri applauded slowly from her position at the side of the cargo bay. Considering how similar Quarian and Atavira bodies were she was the logical choice to train Tali. The elder commando had to admit her charge was a demon in close range and melee combat although her marksmanship left something to be desired.

"Good. Again."

Failing to disguise a slight grumble, Tali headed over to the start of the course again. The course was designed to get Tali's system adapted to the use of encaphelol-C6, a drug used by Atavira commandoes to boost their reaction time and speed. Usage of the drug, nicknamed Adrenaline Rush, without the proper training could easily lead to addiction and psychological damage.

Tali tapped her Omnitool, blasting her system with another dose of Adrenaline Rush as the lasers started up again.

###

Garrus placed the fourth mug of coffee he had fetched in the last six hours down on the workbench and Lizzie grunted in thanks, downing it in three enormous gulps before returning to her feverish work. After a moment she paused, then blinked and stood up, letting Garrus take a look at her creation.

On the table lay what looked like a Collector assault rifle, but subtly different. The weapon had less of an organic texture, chitinous plates replaced with metal and polymers. While the shape was recognisable, if slightly elongated, the appearance of the weapon showed it to be human-made.

"Done."

Garrus looked at the black and grey weapon, then back at her.

"What is that?"

She picked it up, then after a moment of groping found the stud and triggered it to collapse.

"Seems one of the things I got from the beacon was the blueprint for this, the Prothean weapon the Collector rifle is based off. Want to take it down to the firing range?"

He nodded as she slung the weapon on her back.

"Let's go for it."

###

Liara swore as she mashed the Prothean controls, frantically activating the ruin's defensive systems. Her team had been onsite on Therum for just under a week before the Collectors had descended on the place like a pack of varren.

For the Suns, the Collector invasion was a massive boom in their business. Ever since it had emerged that the Collectors were particularly interested in Prothean ruins, digsites throughout the Traverse and the Terminus had been clamouring for reliable and effective private security measures. The Blue Suns were the obvious choice. The digsites on Therum had paid for the best Zaeed had. They had got Proteus battalion.

The battalion were spread over no less than six digs on the planet's surface, the battalion splitting up with the largest group, headed by Liara, on the largest digsite that was also serving as the battalion's command centre. Luckily Liara's group were the only ones thus far under attack and the Little Wing had managed to chase away the Collector vessel but had taken damage in the process, leaving Liara's group stuck with an enormous Collector force bearing down on them and no extraction plan.

The sole Broadsword mech lashed out with its rapidly spinning chainblade, cleaving a Scion clean in half then stomping the two sections into mulch just to make sure. Inside the cockpit, Shylene roared in satisfaction, her artificially three-fingered hands playing over the controls as she brought the mech's missile pod to bear, blasting out a cluster of six high explosive rockets. Since the death of Mesara three years ago something had hardened inside Shylene, becoming a mirror of Liara in personality as well as in appearance. Liara had surprised herself by taking a liking to the new improved Shylene, personally training her until she was an ace in her Broadsword mech painted with hundreds of kill flashes.

Turning her attention away from the rampaging mech, she finally managed to ready the barriers.

"Everyone inside the ruin, now!"

Her team complied, Shylene pacing backwards as she continued to fire off rockets, flanked by the eight silver Krogan, Urdnot Hasok and Mchel Hvachaches laying down withering barrages from the heavy minigun mounted on a makeshift tripod they were operating.

As soon as the unit were back within the confines of the ruins she slammed the button, activating the barrier curtains and sealing them off from the outside world. A knot of angry Collectors congregated outside their little sanctuary, probing at the barrier. Liara spun round, running her eyes over her team.

"Sound off."

"Grunt."

"Theseus."

"Cronus."

"Athena."

"Aphrodite."

"Agamemnon."

"Paris."

"Hector."

"Hasok."

"Mchel."

"Shylene."

"Ocean."

All twelve members of the security team accounted for. Liara felt a surge of relief, briefly cursing the fact that the entire archaeological team had been slaughtered in the first wave then returning her attention to the matter at hand.

"Okay, spread out. Comb the building, I don't want any Collectors throwing us a surprise party. Shy, refuel and rearm your mech. Grunt, Hasok help me set up a redoubt on this level."

Her men jumped to follow her orders, leaving her to gaze speculatively out at the Collectors.

"I wonder how this is all going to end."


	35. Reapers (13)

A/N: Just to clarify something: the Krogan Ether Beams are not Reaper weapons although they function based on similar principles. Thanix beams fire streams of a molten alloy of iron, tungsten and uranium accelerated by a powerful magnetic field inside a mass-reducing effect field. Ether beams fire streams of pure tungsten in the plasma phase accelerated through controlled explosive decompression from the containment chamber inside a mass-reducing effect field.

###

The team snapped to attention as Saren strode into the briefing room.

"At ease."

They sat down in the chairs, painfully aware of the casualties they had suffered the previous mission. They were down to eight, plus the unknown quantity of the four Stalwarts they had taken aboard at Feros which Saren didn't want to send into the field until he had made a more accurate assessment of their abilities.

"Here's the situation. We've got reports of major Collector activity at a Prothean digsite on Therum. This has been brought to our attention because their presence there doesn't fit with the rest of their pattern. We believe Benezia herself may be overseeing the operations on that planet for some reason. Our mission is to infiltrate undetected onto the planet, assess the magnitude of the Collector presence and intervene as necessary. R&D have some new toys for us, report downstairs for your upgrades."

Nodding at the rest of the team, Saren headed downstairs.

###

Miranda clenched her fist, feeling the familiar thrum of biotic power as she finished the checks to her armour. She had to admit the Cerberus Phantom armour was thoroughly unpleasant to wear. It was designed to be worn by the user for weeks on end, effectively a mobile survival pod. A system of absorbent nanolayers and tubes in uncomfortable places ensured her body had a 100 per cent water efficiency, the same H2O molecules cycling through her system millions of times, her nutrients provided by a small stock of hyperconcentrated nutrient paste constantly replenished by the suit processing her body's waste products. For inhospitable environments or EVA, her armour was completely sealed, her air supply of pure oxygen constantly replenished by the catalytic breakdown of carbon dioxide, the carbon feeding back into her nutrient paste. As long as the generators in the armour's weave didn't run out she could in theory go indefinitely without resupply. As the helmet closed over her head she briefly reflected that she understood how the Quarians used to feel.

Her face concealed behind the golden visor of her helmet, she checked over her selection of weapons. Cerberus provided her with an enormous variety of firepower despite the fact she only ever really used the long mono-molecular sword and the SN12 extreme velocity pistol. Locking her weapons to her armour, she stepped out and regarded her companions.

Her team was comprised of three Phantoms, including herself. She was Spirit class, a biotic and tech powerhouse. The petite Italian woman opposite her, Celine Pattenesca, was Nightmare class, capable of killing with a single bullet from her heavily modded Sharp at almost six hundred metres out. Last but not least Amili Bayne was the squad's Shade class, the most capable in close combat.

When Miranda spoke, her voice came out filtered to the point where her accent was totally undiscernable.

"The situation is this, ladies. A high priority target has just resurfaced. We need to capture her alive. Our agent has reported she is aboard a ship en route to Therum. Our job is to get aboard, get the target and get out."

The Phantoms nodded at her, then turned to their own preparation.

###

The Alliance frigate Jorgal slowly approached the disabled Collector ship, searchlight slowly sweeping over the crippled vessel. The frigate's captain, Jorgal Russc, had taken a major risk and wormholed his ship straight into the Collector's exhaust stream. The superheated contrail of plasma had almost instantly overwhelmed his vessel's shields but the miracle-stone hull had held firm, allowing him to lurk in the Collector ship's blind spot long enough to fire his ship's main ether beam straight up into their exhaust port, burning out their engines and power core.

Inside the Jorgal's hangar bay, the Alliance boarding forces were readying their equipment. The weapons they were going to be using were all Fortack-line prototype ether-tech, tested extensively on a handful of Weyrloc sub-clans that had been holding out against the Alliance. Each Clan-class frigate carried fifteen sets of the new breaching armour. That was really all they needed.

Russc looked over the fifteen black armoured figures ready to deploy in the vessel's cargo hold. Each of them was clad in Essaten tactical breaching armour, the enormous powered suits adding three foot onto the height of each Krogan and bulking them out to the point where they could effectively block an average sized corridor. They were all wielding a variety of arcane weapons, eager to engage the enemy.

"Ready to engage."

"Begin the assault."

Each of the Essaten warriors, or Terminators as they were known in the fleet, raised a fist to their chests, punching in co-ordinates for their personal wormhole drive systems, nicknamed 'Pewds', and disappeared into their own personal crackling red portal.

Battlemaster Urdnot Axen stepped out of his wormhole, looking around the Collector vessel as his squad emerged beside him.

"Tark, come in."

Moments later the voice of Khel Tark, his squad's handler, appeared.

"Hold on. The ship's barriers are still partially functional in areas, comms are spotty. Okay, I've made your position. Bringing up internal scans."

There was a momentary pause as Axen checked over his weapons. His main weapon was a Gorgon rifle, a larger, bulkier version of the Blitz rifle being developed for mass production. To back up that weapon for close combat he carried an ether hammer, the revamped version of the old Warlord hammer. His squad were similarly armed, apart from the fact that instead of an ether hammer they wore ether gauntlets that coated their left hands in a field of cherry-red plasma, enabling them to punch through almost anything. The one exception was Ravanor Jask who carried an enormous heavy flamethrower that cast its flames in excess of three thousand degrees.

"Okay, I have them. The Collector data core is about two hundred metres away, six levels up from your current position. Watch yourself though - several Collector squads are headed towards you."

"Acknowledged."

He hefted his Gorgon rifle and waved for his men to move out. The plan was to converge on the Collector data core from three directions and take control of the vessel from there while they awaited the arrival of their reinforcements on the Warlord-class cruiser Shiagur.

"Axen, you've got a Collector squad entrenched directly in your path. Watch yourself - they've got heavy weapons."

Axen responded with his thanks and held up a fist, bringing his team to a halt.

"I marked them on your HUD."

Checking his screen, Axen jolted in surprise. They were literally just around the corner. If he had kept going he would have walked his squad straight into an ambush.

"Appreciated."

He stepped smartly out into the firing line then instantly recoiled, smirking as three Collector railgun bolts splashed against the opposite wall. Collector railguns functioned similarly to ether beams, firing bolts of molten metal powerful enough to blow through frigate armour. The downside was that each cannon took thirty seconds to recharge between shots. Which meant his team had thirty seconds to wreak bloody havoc on the entrenched Collectors.

"Full extermination!"

All five Krogan in his squad stepped round the corner and began pacing towards the Collector position. Four Gorgon rifles opened up, the flamethrower waiting until they were closer.

Axen jammed down the trigger of his Gorgon and inside the weapon, a bolt shunted back and rotated, scooping a fat shell out of the first of the three magazines arranged radially around the enormous rifle. A tiny rocket engine at the rear of the bullet opened up, the mass-reducing field around the three barrels enabling the miniature missile to be accelerated out of the weapon's barrel at enormous velocity. As the shell left the muzzle of the weapon four stabilising fins popped out, allowing the bullet to fly straight and true. Five metres from the Collector position, the bullet exploded, replaced by a cluster of flechettes that glowed white hot from being exposed to the blast of the rocket engine during the shell's flight. The flechettes flew true, unencumbered by the cover the Collectors were hiding behind as the metal plates were sliced through by the white hot blades. Likewise, the Collectors behind the plates proved to be little obstacle to the flechettes.

Axen roared in approval as the airbursting rounds made short work of the Collector front line. Likewise, his men greatly enjoyed the spectacle of the Collector line being slice'n'diced by the barrage their heavy machine guns put out.

They came to within twenty five metres and sheets of incandescent flame spewed out of Ravanor Jask's flamethrower, immolating any surviving Collectors. When he lifted the muzzle of his weapon up and released his hold on the trigger, the bodies weren't burning or even melting. They simply weren't there any more.

Chortling to himself, Axen pulled up his Gorgon and checked the ammunition counter on the side of the weapon.

12/12/11

Quickly running the math in his head, Axen baulked at the amount of ammunition he alone had used in the fight. Fifty five rounds out of the weapon's capacity of ninety. He pulled the magazines out of the weapon, plugging them into the slots on his backpack and they disappeared inside to be refilled, three fresh magazines popping out of the slots. He plugged them into their relevant ports on the weapon, nodding in satisfaction as the ammo counter once again displayed three thirties.

"Let's move."

The team stomped through the slowly cooling remains of the Collector position, heading deeper into the ship.

###

Tali, Jack and Kelly all leaned in close, waiting anxiously on the answer to their question. Sam chewed her lower lip in thought for a moment, then looked up.

"Bang Audrey Hepburn."

There was a stunned silence.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Jack groaned and rubbed her forehead.

"You're telling me that if you had a time machine the first thing you would do is bang Audrey Hepburn?"

"Yes."

Tali raised a finger imperiously and pointed at Sam, who was squirming slightly.

"Kelly, you need to have sex with this woman before she grows horns."

Sam wildly gesticulated at Jack.

"So! Hers was to beat up Chuck Norris!"

"That's a serious achievement."

"So is sleeping with Audrey bloody Hepburn!"

Jack sniggered and poked Kelly.

"I didn't know your girlfriend was looking for her red wings. Kinky."

Tali looked blank and Kelly took pity on her.

"She's talking about that thing Human women do once a month."

She still looked confused. Jack took it upon herself to explain.

"Menstruation."

"Oh Keelah. Is that the thing with the ... Never mind, I don't even want to know."

A little voice piped up behind them.

"What does that mean?"

The expressions of sheer terror on their faces had Joker doubled over laughing as he turned off his Omnitool, hiding the recording of Nari.

###

The Blue Suns owned Zorya. That was the only way to put it. The entire planet had been claimed by them, a number of civilian cities on the planet completely overshadowed by the sprawling fifty kilometre wide base that was their galactic headquarters. The entire thing was studded by defence cannons and missile silos and protected from orbital bombardment by an enormous kinetic barrier dome, the largest planetary based dome in existence. At the very centre of the base, a one hundred and sixty storey tower served as the beating heart of every Blue Suns operation in the galaxy.

On the one hundred and sixtieth floor, Captain Jentha Mae Sorsdöttir stood at attention as General Zaeed Massani appraised her coolly. She had heard rumours that Massani was past his best. She knew different. The old man may not have much left in the way of hair but he had a razor sharp mind and the fitness of someone who had spent almost their entire life honing their body as a weapon. His eyes examined her armour and weapons even as he poured two glasses of Tirfan firebrew, a very popular Raachok drink that tasted like sweet red wine but had the kick of absinthe.

"Sit down before you drop dead, girl."

Sighing, she gratefully collapsed into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk. She had been run ragged the past week or so, operating on about an hour of sleep a night and too much coffee, her time consumed with desperately trying to field the slew of reinforcement or evac requests for Suns caught in Collector warzones. The entirety of the Blue Suns command structure was like an ant nest that had just met a boot.

Jentha caught a glimpse of herself in the polished reflective surface of the titanium desk. Despite being in her early fifties she still looked as if she was around her late twenties. She was getting to the end of her prime - thanks to Raachok anti-senescent gene mods Humans really had two plateaus to their ageing process. The first was from the age of twenty five to fifty five, when they essentially stopped ageing for thirty years. The next was from eighty five to one hundred and twenty five, which most Humans spent looking like an unaugmented human in their early sixties. From there onwards they started ageing again, albeit slowly with the longest recorded human living to the ripe old age of one hundred and eighty seven. The stress and sleep deprivation almost made Jentha look like she was in the second plateau with Zaeed.

"How are you holding up?"

She thought about playing down her state of exhaustion, then decided against it.

"Like reheated bug shit, sir."

He chortled at the expression. It had highly unsavoury origins, coming from the Seu'Seun war when survival guides had as a last ditch hail Mary to survival recommended boiling up Seu'Seun excrement which was surprisingly nutritious if a little disgusting.

"You look it. When's the last time you slept more than an hour?"

"I think we lived in caves and made fire with sticks."

She glanced down at her reflection again, trying to ignore the bags under her eyes as she sipped at the firebrew. Even after drinking the stuff almost since she was old enough to drink she had to fight down the urge to splutter after taking a mouthful.

"I'm sending your battalion to Therum. Proteus Battalion are dirt side and getting hammered by the Collectors. You need to extract them."

He reached across the desk and patted her hand.

"It's quite a journey. If I were you I'd lock myself in my cabin and sleep the whole way."

She yawned cavernously and rubbed her eyes, having to exert a considerable amount of willpower to lever herself out of the seat.

"I'll get it done, boss."

###

Liara paced anxiously in front of the barrier curtain, TCN5 HSMG in hand as she stared at the creatures in front of her. Dome heads, they were called, appearing to be the Collector version of security mechs. A nightmare collision of flesh and metal, they stood mute and motionless in front of the barrier curtain, their strange flattened ball-like heads with no discernible facial features, limbs and long tails composed of two separate segments that came together at the joints much like the radius and ulna bones of a Human or Asari forearm. One of their hands was replaced by a semi-automatic high caliber rifle, the other was a thumbless two-fingered hand, each finger tipped in a vicious thirty centimetre blade. They unnerved her, a rare feat for someone who had stared down a biotic thresher maw.

The Collectors outside clicked at one another as they moved equipment around, the dome heads standing as silent sentinels as Grunt approached her carrying two steaming bowls of stew.

"Battlemaster, I brought you some food."

She smiled at him as she took the bowl, spearing a chunk of meat with her combat knife. The stew was very makeshift, consisting of chunks of dried varren meat, doughy bread and dehydrated peppers, all stewed with a significant helping of chilli powder. It wasn't Michelin Star cuisine, but it was hot and high-calorie, exactly what she needed.

"Thanks."

She slumped against the wall and Grunt sat beside her, dwarfing her even sitting down.

"We're in a fine mess, aren't we?"

Grunt chuckled darkly as he stabbed at his food.

"Surrounded, outnumbered and trapped in a volcano. You pick the best battles."

She sighed and scratched her face, huffing in annoyance as she inadvertently deposited some of the greasy water from the stew on her cheek.

"The Collectors really got us here."

Grunt shook his head and lightly punched her on the shoulder, making her stew slosh around in the bowl.

"Hey, we took on Antros and lived to tell the tale. What chance do a bunch of insects have?"


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.

###

Kaidan looked quite attractive even wearing an apron and a pair of oven mitts. Obviously Taeri wasn't about to tell him that, instead enjoying the view as he bent down to slide a tray of something into the oven. When he turned back round he jumped, seeming not to have realised Taeri was standing there.

"Hey. Whatcha making?"

She looked round at the ingredients spread across the table as Kaidan shrugged.

"On our old ship one of the Marines used to cook breakfast for the whole crew once a week. I thought it would be a great thing to do on this ship, but I sort of got carried away buying ingredients on Arcturus Station."

"I'll say. What are you making, a three course meal?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"You're not, are you?"

"Umm ... Maybe?"

She chuckled as she walked round the counter and stuck her hands under the sink.

"What are you doing?"

She smirked at him.

"Looks like you could use an extra pair of hands. What are we making?"

He smiled at her and gestured to a group of ingredients set aside from the rest.

"The first course is a Greek dish called hitipiti. We have here some red peppers, and the dextro equivalent, blue firefruit. We need to half them and take out the insides."

She nodded, taking the dextro fruits and chopping them in half with a sharp knife then using a spoon to scoop out the watery pulp inside, leaving only the layer of flesh directly under the skin. Next to her Kaidan was chopping the peppers, cutting out the stalks then halving them and using his knife to scrape out the seeds and pale flesh. As they worked Kaidan struck up a conversation.

"So whereabouts did you grow up?"

She glanced up at him as she worked.

"Maio. It's a tiny colony, most people haven't heard of it, out on the Emaris/American border. You?"

He shrugged as he picked a couple of errant seeds out of the pepper he was preparing.

"Earth. Vancouver, to be specific. What was Maio like?"

"It was the best place in the galaxy to grow up. Most of the planet was ocean, with only five small islands in a little archipelago on the equator. The main island was the colony centre and spaceport, with all the modern conveniences, cinemas, clubs, schools, even an amusement park. The other islands were much less high tech. Hell, the island I grew up on we didn't even have internal combustion vehicles. Just a basic generator for power and heating, a comm array for extranet access and a crap-ton of farms. We were totally self-sufficient, it was amazing. Everyone got around on bicycles or animal-drawn carts. I spent most of my childhood running around the island in a bathing suit with a surfboard under my arm."

She glanced away for a moment, then got back to scooping pulp out a firefruit half.

"Of course, it couldn't last. This crazy Human billionaire decided he wanted his own private empire and what better than an island full of Atavira in bikinis? So this bastard sets up shop, builds himself an honest to God castle on a nearby islet and starts buying up the whole island one plot at a time, putting in paved roads and groundcars and aircars and towers and all that modern shit the island didn't need or want. Like all the other residents I didn't want to stay and watch him destroy everything special to me about the island. I packed up and moved to the city, got scouted by the Emaris recruitment office and here I am twelve years later. Last I heard the island was run by the Blood Pack."

He paused for a moment, unsure what to say.

"Damn. I'm really sorry about that."

She shrugged.

"Don't be. I've got enough holos and vids to remember the island I grew up on, not the island I left. I'm done with the firefruit."

Kaidan glanced around at her chopping board which was loaded up with halves of firefruit.

"Okay. Load them up onto Omnitrays and shove them in the oven."

He gestured over to a stack of glowing orange baking trays. Taeri raised one eyebrow.

"Omni-trays?"

Kaidan shrugged as he loaded up the peppers.

"No washing up if your utensils are all made of Omnigel."

He slid the trays into the oven and set the heat going.

"We need to roast the peppers and firefruits for 25 minutes at 180 degrees C. I'll set a timer on my Omnitool. Now we need to chop the cheese."

He produced several very large packets of feta cheese from the refrigerator.

"Here we go. These are levo and these ones are dextro, made from aur milk. We need to dice them pretty finely."

Taeri glanced at the packets in trepidation.

"How much are we making?"

"For the whole crew. It's usually one half pepper and forty to fifty grams of cheese per person."

She nodded as she opened the first pack of feta, draining out the brine and starting to dice it in quick motions.

"Have you ever noticed how lazy Council inventors are at naming things?"

Kaidan glanced up at her, his eyebrow quirked in a silent query.

"I mean, everything's Omni-something. Omnitool, Omniblade, Omnigel ..."

"Omnitrays?"

"Exactly."

Kaidan smirked slightly.

"It's because they're too busy sitting on their Omnichairs congratulating themselves."

She chuckled.

"Maybe if they got off their Omnibutts ..."

Both of them sniggered, glancing conspiratorially at each other.

"I can't believe I didn't see this before."

"Me neither. Do you think they use Omni anything else?"

Taeri leaned forward, still dicing feta cheese, and adopted the peppy tone of an Asari advertisement.

"Buy our all new Omnitoiletpaper! Save trees!"

Kaidan burst out laughing as she continued.

"Our new monomolecular sheet is guaranteed to use the minimum amount of Omnigel necessary to get your behind as fresh as an Omnidaisy in no time!"

Kaidan almost fell over, clutching his sides.

"Jesus, monomolecular sheets? Imagine the paper cuts!"

It was Taeri's turn to burst out laughing. Kaidan tapped his chopping board.

"Come on, we need to prepare this food."

Taeri was still giggling a little as she spoke.

"Omnifood?"

Kaidan looked her dead in the eye and said, completely deadpan:

"Om-nom-nomnifood."

Taeri didn't stop shrieking with laughter for five minutes.

By the time the peppers were done they had finished dicing the feta cheese. Taeri turned to him.

"Okay, now what?"

In response he pulled out two blenders.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He took his knife and sliced the peppers into strips, Taeri following suit with the firefruit. Once they were done Kaidan added three chopped pepper halves and dropped in feta cheese until the blender's can was around half full, waiting until Taeri followed suit with the dextro ingredients, then brought out a bottle of olive oil.

"Olive oil pretty much has no protein in it so we can use it for both versions. The oil's just to keep it mobile in the blender. We're looking for a chunky texture from the cheese but the peppers mostly blended."

He pulsed the blender a couple of times to demonstrate.

"Some people prefer to blend the peppers a bit first then add the cheese but I prefer to do it this way."

The last thing he did was to slice several chilli peppers and drop them into the blend.

"Firefruits are spicier than red peppers so you don't need any chillis in the dextro version."

Taeri nodded, frowning in concentration as she pulsed the blender until she got the texture Kaidan was talking about. They repeated the procedure until they had filled up several large bowls with the chunky dip, the levo one an orangey red and the dextro one a sort of white-mauve colour.

"So how do we serve it?"

In response Kaidan opened the cupboard under the hob to reveal an enormous stack of pitta breads of both chiralities.

"We warm those up and stuff the hitipiti inside them."

She nodded.

"Ah, OK. So what now?"

###

The entire crew were assembled round the dining table, breaking into a spontaneous round of applause as Kaidan and Taeri emerged carrying enormous stacks of steaks. They had all enjoyed the starter and were eager to see what the two of them had come up with for the main course.

"For the levo option," every Human at the table let out a cheer, "we have rare beef cuts coming from genuine cows, served with a red wine jus, roasted potatoes and a rocket and Parmesan salad. For the dextros," all the Turians and Atavira, as well as Tali, stomped their feet and cheered, "we have Macedyn smoked anserae cuts with a Pau berry wine jus, boiled chatta roots and a chatta flower salad."

They set the various dishes down on the long table and everyone started digging in amidst general murmurs of enjoyment. At one end of the table Ashley and Garrus were sitting either side of Nari, who was happily munching on a surprisingly large cut of steak. Ash turned to Nari and produced a bag.

"Hey, I heard you ran out of pages in your sketchbook so I bought you a new one."

From the bag emerged a large ring-bound pad of paper. Garrus glanced across at the substantial pad.

"Where did you get that? I couldn't find a single leaf of paper that wasn't for hygiene purposes on the Citadel."

Ash shrugged as Nari looked at the pad with wonder.

"I found it in an antique shop on Arcturus Station, still hermetically sealed in its wrapping. Set me back a few, but the hazard pay on this mission is stuffing my bank account like nothing."

Nari squealed and threw her arms around Ash, bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

She then peered at the cover of the antique sketchpad.

"Pukka pad Jotta. Why did they spell Jotter wrong?"

Ash and Garrus both examined the pad. Eventually Ash replied.

"I guess they were trying to make it sound gangsta."

Garrus thought about it for a moment then tapped a talon on the word Pukka.

"Looks like they spelled that one wrong too."

Ash leaned across Nari to punch Garrus's arm.

"You are a bad bad man, Centurion Vakarian."

Meanwhile across the table Anderson made a sharp chopping motion with his hand.

"I hear what you're saying and you have a point, but how can you even say that Chele Osindara was a better Joker than Heath Ledger? Have you even seen the movies?"

Saren growled slightly, immediately on the defensive.

"Osindara's performance in the 2118 version actually portrayed the Joker as a sentient creature with a solid emotional basis. Ledger's Joker was at best a cartoon villain, no backstory at all."

"I agree with that, but you're judging them on the basis of the script, not the performance. Osindara's delivery was bland and clichéd. I admit in the emotional scenes he was good but he didn't properly portray the Joker's core character."

"And I suppose Ledger did? His acting was overdone to the point of absurdity and his character had no obvious motivation whatsoever!"

Anderson threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

"That's the point! He was insane! Osindara was just a stock villain in corny makeup. Ledger managed to make the Joker seem inhuman, like a demon."

Saren frowned, pausing to swallow a mouthful of steak before replying.

"Come on, David. When have you ever seen someone behave like that in real life?"

Anderson waved his fork in small circles, brandishing it towards Saren.

"I knew it! It's a cultural difference thing. Turian films are always hyper-realistic, but Human films usually bend the realms of possibility for entertainment's sake."

Further argument was forestalled by the acid tones of Auhelu.

"If you two are quite done gesticulating with your cutlery, you're getting sauce on my shirt."

Both men turned around to Auhelu with identical 'oh shit' expressions on their faces, unwilling to meet the steely-eyed gaze of the Atavira priestess with dark red blotches on her previously pristine white top.

Lizzie chuckled at their predicament before turning her attention back to Joker and the holographic avatar of EDI, half-listening to their spirited discussion of drive cores as she put away a double helping of steak. There was always a moment in any mission where a group of soldiers became a team. She had a feeling this was that moment.

###

Liara muttered a litany of words that could curdle milk as she ducked behind cover. The Collectors had found a Prothean remote access console from somewhere and were navigating the baffling operating system with disturbing ease. The only way to stop them from deactivating the barrier curtain was to crawl up to a small vent, locally shut down the barrier curtain, knock the top half of the vent cover off and use a Sharp to snipe the Collectors off the console.

Of course as soon as she did that the Collectors opened up with a withering barrage of fire, the soldiers, snipers and heavies keeping her suppressed, the Vanguards and Domeheads waiting with biotics and rifles respectively raised, waiting for her to stick a finger out of cover. The reinforced Prothean material of the grate cover was providing some level of protection from their fire but it was only so long before they decided to expend a railgun charge to take her out, and while the three metre thick walls of the bunker may be able to withstand a blast from one of those weapons she doubted the thin vent cover would be as resilient.

The suppressing fire slackened, leaving her just enough time to wonder what was going on before a Collector head poked over the opening to the vent. Reacting instantly, Liara darted her hand out, grabbing the wrist of the arm bringing the SMG to bear and crushed it, drawing a clicking cry of pain as she pulled out a brace of high yield bombs and wrapped them around the unfortunate Collector's neck before biotically backhanding it out of the vent and right into the group trying to operate the remote console. She felt her lips pull themselves into a savage grin as she jammed her thumb on the detonator, then replaced the vent cover and triggered the security protocol, half a metre of dense Prothean miracle material sliding into position and blocking off the vent.

Groaning, she crawled backwards until she reached the other grate then dropped down into the facility, rapping her knuckles against Hasok's outstretched fist as she took a bowl of stew from him.

"Thanks."

He grunted as he levered himself to the floor beside her.

"How are you doing, kid?"

She grimaced and clicked her neck.

"Okay, I guess. You?"

He chuckled.

"I could go for a Harvester steak right now."

After a moment's hesitation she leaned her head against the bulky Krogan, Hasok smiling at the affectionate gesture.

"Stick in there kid. We'll get through this."

###

A/N: Hitipiti is a genuine recipe I have made in the past, obviously with the names of certain ingredients modified to fit different planets. I basically made Atavira food a dextro version of Human food for laziness's sake. If anyone wants to try and make some, go ahead and PM me to say how it was ;)


End file.
